#though some more emotional parts of fanfiction are still a bit awkward to write like when characters actually care about each other

[playingonedchess]

i get wanting to create an emotive impact but why do so many fanfictions way overstate characters emotional reactions to stuff it just cheapens it

[ruiniel]

Hello again~ :D Mind if I asked for something a little on the smutty side, please? Alucard x shy, sheltered virgin Fem!Reader, this idea may be a bit silly but... she would like to become more intimate (specifically, she wants to give him a handjob), but she's yet to become acquainted with the entirety of the male body *winkwink* and how it functions, so poor Alucard has to basically help coach her through it. XD Bonus points if it's comedic but please don't feel pressured to make it so. Sorry if it's a weird one. XD;;

TY for sending in! This turned out longer than a 'small scene', so here we are:

Castlevania series fanfiction request 3/3 for this post

Guide me

Fandom: Castlevania (series)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Alucard x f!Reader

Tags/Warnings: virgin reader, inexperienced reader, Adrian's not that far off, fluff, emotional, shyness, sexual intimacy, fumbling, first time, handjob, masturbation, fluids, stubborn belts, banter, some awkwardness ofc, slice of smut life

A storm rages outside the timeworn stone walls. You lie with Adrian on his bed — become your bed, lately — tangled close, an open manuscript forgotten by your side. You’d been studying the properties of minerals for some time now, though any pretense of that was abandoned once you’d cuddled up into each other, kissing slowly and forgetting all else. It’s relatively recently that you’d both had the presence of spirit to acknowledge this: he, to shed his suspicions, his dismay and his doubt, and open up to you; you, to accept the full depth of what it is you feel.

He brings you closer, hand drifting to the small of your back, holding you to him — as usual, his body reacts almost instantly; you always feel a thrill shivering through you when it does; the first few times, he'd angle his hips away from you so as not to be overwhelming, then pulling you closer once you said you liked it. It makes you feel needed; it makes you feel selfishly loved, feasting on triumph in a frenzied yet wonderful way. You’d done this many times before falling asleep, curled with him in some way or another.

But now, one thought dwells more than others; you remember that often lately, as you went slack in his embrace, you’d feel Adrian kissing your forehead, then gently disentangling himself from you and leaving the room. He wouldn’t stay long but return by your side looking much calmer, or at ease, if you could call it that.

You think you know what he’s been doing and a part of you is stirred, the other anxious. You love his spirit, his whole being — body included — and want to see more, to learn everything about him; to see how pleasure looks on him, the kind you’ve only read about in his ancient library that hosts all and any forgotten and forbidden writings throughout history.

There’s one aspect still keeping you in a stalemate, however, unable to make the leap, fulfill that wish: inexperience. He knows it, he’s no versed paramour himself, after all. And Adrian would not conceive of being hasty, not with this, especially not when he knows what it's like to be hunted, overwhelmed, trapped. He'd not ask for anything you hadn’t thought of yourself, or offered, the pull towards you showing mostly in the crushing embraces, the feverish, aching way he tastes your mouth. You’d spoken about it, decided that small steps would do, when you are ready.

“Adrian,” you speak into the kiss.

“Mmm?” he deigns, eyes closed, brows pinched together like one savoring nectar.

“Can I ask you something?”

Adrian draws back slowly, gazes at you, runs his knuckles down your cheek. “Of course.”

Your finger traces a line beneath one golden eye, feeling the silk of his lashes. “What is it you do when you leave after we spend time together?” 

Adrian blinks, looking away, and you get the terrible feeling you’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” you’re quick to add. “I… I was genuinely interested. I’m not judging.”

He turns on his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm.

“I shouldn't have mentioned it—”

“I take care of myself,” he admits, restless fingers tapping against his chest, “thinking of you.”

You're only a little dizzy. “Of me?”

“Oh yes.”

“In what way?”

A smile. He still shields his eyes from you. “In every way…” He pauses.

You curl a leg over his hip, enjoying the firmness of him beneath your softness. Nudging him. “Well?”

He sighs your name. “… do you really wish to hear?”

He wants you; you know he does — you feel it every time you’re close, it's impossible not to. You don’t mean to torture him, and something other than curiosity leads you forward. “I do. Please?”

Adrian huffs a short laugh, yields. “I think of us, together.”

You shift and hide your nose against his neck, surprised at the sense of satisfaction his words bring. “Go on.”

“I think of you... naked, skin pressed to mine,” he murmurs, “pinned beneath me.” His chest rises in a deep breath. “Of holding you, taking you, slowly at first, then faster… of you begging me for more.” His throat bobs as he swallows, and you feel a sudden urge to hide your face into the pillow while that image makes your mouth water.

“... what else?” you ask, nipping at his earlobe, feeling him harden beneath the pressure of your leg.

“Releasing myself inside you, making you mine. It always tips me over.”

You run a slow hand up and down his chest. “Will you do it after this, too?”

“... I… Probably. It’s difficult otherwise; thinking clearly; sleeping; doing anything.”

The words leave your mouth in a rush, barely audible. “What if I try?”

You freeze. What did you just do?!

Adrian removes his forearm from his eyes, turning his head to look at you. “... try?” 

“Yes,” you add, sheepishly now, not quite meeting his gaze. Your hand drifts to his hip, but you don't go lower. “If I… 'take care' of you, this time.”

You feel a twitch beneath your thigh. “You want that?” He reaches, runs a thumb along your chin, to your lip. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything. Ever,” he adds, his face a strange meld of both conviction and desire.

“I know,” you kiss his nose, your voice weak. “I want to. If you do, too.”

You feel his warm sigh as Adrian tilts his head to suck on your bottom lip, hugging you tighter. “I’d be a damned fool not to.”

You smile. “I’ll… I’ll also need help, though,” you say in the scant breathing space left between you, tasting his tongue. 

Adrian hums and mmm's into your kiss, nods fastly. “... Now?”

You hug him close, daring to brush your hip against his; a hitch to his breath. “Now, yes.”

Adrian slowly turns, rising and propping his back against the headboard. You follow, latching yourself to his side. 

He caresses your cheek, your forearm, looking at you with adoration that makes the blood sing in your veins, adding to your nervousness.

“Guide me,” you say, voice faltering. Adrian gently takes your hand; it trembles in his and he looks up at you, pausing. He feels it, of course he does: your panic, melded with a rising yearning for more. He watches you with a question in his eyes. Are you sure?

You nod, still smiling.

He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the inside of your wrist, your palm. Still looking at you, he leads it over his chest, his abdomen, lower, past his hip bone. There he releases you and makes to undo his belt.

You stop him. That looks simple enough, for starters. “Let me?” 

His hand falls to his side after a moment. “... all right.”

Bolder than you feel, you reach for his belt, laughing inwardly at your silly, shaking fingers.

You never noticed: this is a strange buckle. You turn your head, pull a few times, in every direction, but the damn thing won’t give. “Er.”

You hear a stifled sound, looking to see Adrian pressing a palm to his mouth, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you... are you laughing?”

“No!” he says as you huff and reach to drag his hand away from his smiling mouth. 

“Forgive me,” his gaze softens on you, “please, I am not laughing at you, it’s only… you’re... ” he pauses, trying to look more dignified. “You’re adorable.”

“Fine. Are you sure this is a regular belt and not a chastity one?” you pull on it again, halfhearted.

Adrian giggles, arches a brow. Damn him, you love it when he does that. “Have you even seen what those actually look like?”

You’re still pulling helplessly at the leather strap. “Can you…” you give up and Adrian ever the gentleman spares you, reaches to help, easily unbuckling the belt and disposing of it with a careless swipe.

You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You glare at him, lying there prone and smiling impishly, and suddenly realize: you’re not as uneasy anymore. And you have the perfect payback.

His smile fades when your hand glides over him, and almost instantly feel him respond to your touch the more you go. You rub him through those too-tight trousers until he’s panting, the muscles in his leg tensing against your side.

Gazing at him, you gently push his shirt up, revealing defined muscle, feeling him before undoing the first fastening to his trousers, then the next, following down until you reach the last; Adrian makes it easier, sliding the garment lower down his hips.

You stare, fascinated, eyes skimming over his exposed skin, over the hot, hard flesh hidden from you by the thin material of his underclothes. You look up at him, finding all mirth gone from his face. Instead, he looks rather… helpless. Helpless and eager. “Am I doing this in your fantasies?”

“... It crossed my mind a few times, yes.”

“And this?” You pull at the last layer of material; he aids you, raising his body briefly.

You glance down. “Oh.”

“... What's wrong? Should we stop?” Adrian asks swiftly, as one forcing themselves out of an alcoholic daze.

He misunderstands. “No,” you say, “No,” and to prove it, you run a finger along the hard length of him. “It’s just… it’s.” You’d never seen this actual body part in reality, on anyone, and you’re baffled, to say the least. “It’s... not small. At all.”

He laughs, and this time, you’re grateful for it. 

“And thicker than I thought,” you mumble anyway, but can’t keep from exploring. Seeing this side to him is alluring in its own way. And he's girthy and hot to the touch, and as you stare, you notice the head, tinted a tender, fleshy pink, shining with beads of clear liquid.

A shiver runs down your spine; you feel that flush like soft lapping tongues inside, that heat that leaves you wet, wondering what he would feel like moving inside you. What if you just rose and sat on him now. 

Your mouth feels dry. “What should I do?” You gaze long at him, leaning over for a soft kiss. “Tell me what you like.”

“I…” Adrian places his hand over yours as you watch him, the sweet way his fangs show between his soft lips, the blush. “I’m sorry I’m… I didn’t expect…”

You kiss him again, and it’s then you feel his hand guiding yours, lower, pressing slowly over his straining cock. 

“It’s wet,” you whisper. 

“Run your thumb over it,” he says, his hot palm pressing into your hand. He feels warmer, too, warmer than usual. You try doing as he asks, circling, feeling the silky wetness of it as Adrian bites on his lip.

“Like this?”

“Yes, like that.” He brings his mouth to your chin. His hand over yours moves lower, to the base, wrapping your fingers around it.

You feel him pulsing in your hand, brief twitches and jerks accompanied by his heavy breath on your neck. 

You’re enjoying this; seeing him so pliant, so responsive to the barest touch. It makes you feel wanted; it makes you feel… one with him in a space that is yours and yours alone. 

Adrian guides you in a practiced motion, his hand moving yours, from base to tip, tugging slowly and squeezing your fingers around him harder as he goes.

“Doesn’t… doesn’t that hurt you?” you ask, unable to tear your eyes away from his lost, famished gaze as Adrian shakes his head.

“On the contrary,” he gasps, head thumping against the headboard as you tug at him faster, hips arching into your hand, “this is… this is how…” when he groans you shiver, thighs rubbing together as you go even faster, his cock slick in your hand, and you feel his grip loosen, his grasp weaker on your thigh.

He’s panting, hair a mess, pale face flushed red but no redder than his eyes, fangs piercing his bottom lip. “Squeeze harder— p-please,” he asks, begs, and all you can do is grant him this, pumping him and kissing whatever you set your lips on — his cheek, his neck, his collarbone, his bloodied lip.

“I’m….” his fingers sink into the flesh of your thigh again, his other hand removing yours as he takes over, stroking himself desperately while you watch. It doesn’t take long — in a blink he throws his head back, moaning in a manner that leaves you wanting to jump him this very moment, and white-slick spills all over his hand, his shadowed gaze on you, his other hand still tucked between your thighs.   

“... are you all right?” you ask as he falls heavily back onto the bed. You've never seen him this disheveled. It becomes him.

“Never better…” Adrian slurs, smiling like a fool as he tilts his head to meet your eyes. “What about you?” He moves to bring you close, then thinks better of it. “It’s… it sticks to things, trust me,” he offers at your questioning stare. “Best I clean myself up before anything else.” 

“I see.” You hover over him, kissing his nose, drinking in the rare sight: tangled tresses, eyes fading red, chest heaving and half-bare, a fetching afterglow to his golden features. “Thank you.”

“... what for?” Adrian asks, half-rising, half-kissing you.

“For the learning experience, naturally,” you pinch him, at ease, content and… and so pleased.

A scoff. A look of fondness in his eyes as he cups the back of your head, brings your foreheads together. “You know…” Adrian says, grinning now, “there is so much more to this.”

“I know.” You already want to try more of this, or anything else, to have him glowing like molten gold again. You twirl a strand of long soft hair around your finger. “Let's get there, together.”

[dumbass-mha-simp]

Elliott x GN!Reader

Your New Playlist

Kinda sad? Ig angst but not actually like, bad angst yk.

1k words

Stardew Valley

Warnings: crying, mentally beating yourself over a crush, self-sacrificing but not in a death kinda way, cussing (I think like one f word), Elliott is a theater kid you can't convince me otherwise,

I wanna do a part two, would anyone be interested? I know how much us Elliott simps want fanfiction. I'm probably gonna start on it anyway lol.

Yes I actually made this playlist smh ikik, you don't have to listen to it ofc but his aesthetic really fits my music taste, at least I feel so. I write my fanfiction as gender neutral as I can but if you ever spot any mistakes I'd love to fix it!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elliott's POV

My feet took me across the path leading to Leah's house. The gentle cotton clouds stretching their wisps across the blue sky, bright enough to blind me as though it were the sun that it surrounds. The gentle new Spring breeze froze my cheeks lightly as my eyes closed to avoid the same chill from the past winter.

Fresh Spring flowers and hidden vegetables encircled her yard as I made my way to knock against the dark wood door that always seemed thunderingly loud.

Leah peaked through the window by her door before I can see her face light up and reach for the door.

"Hey, c'mon in!" She opens the door wider to let me pass through. "How are you doing?"

"If I'm honest, a little troubled." I sigh looking forlornly to the floor.

"Come sit." Leah pulls me to her table and sits in the accompanying seat. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Leah, what does it feel like to you before you admit you fancy someone?" I look up into her listening eyes before her face changes into slight shock.

"Hmmm." She brings her hand up to her chin as she ponders. "Well, you miss being around them when they're gone. You constantly find ways to connect anything back to them, like `oh they'd love this`, or `I should check up on them.` You care about their opinion more than others and you want to learn about them, even if it's the uninteresting things."

I slide my arms down onto the table, placing my head on top of them. That sounded exactly like what's happening. I had read about it a million times, falling gently in love with a close friend. Perhaps that interest to become friends was always attraction.

"I can't get enough of Y/N." I muffled through my folded arms sighing once again as I turned my head to finally look back up at Leah, the light stinging my eyes.

"Well maybe I could help you with getting more of them?" Leah smirked as she grabbed her phone from her pocket.

I lifted my head slightly panicked. "What are you doing?" I rushed out.

"Relax, I'm not telling Y/N. But they shared something with me. They have a wide music taste yes?"

I had heard some of their music. While they made us lunch, while they partake in their hobbies, when they hum near silently late at night on the beach. I nodded back thinking of how they never seemed to be signing along to a song similar to the others. Unpredictable, and absolutely captivating.

"Well one of their tastes in music is very folk-y and they mentioned how those songs reminded them of you. So they made a playlist of songs that remind themselves of you." Leah said looking down and scrolling through her phone.

They made a playlist about me. They actively want to remember and listen to things that remind themselves of me. I feel I might faint. Was this something that was common among friends? Was this nothing more than an act of kindness? Or something they decided to do on a whim?

"Here give me your phone I'll send it to you." She holds her hand out expectantly.

I quickly go to pull out the hardly used device. I had never had much use for it but if it could bring me any step closer to Y/N I wouldn't hesitate to learn.

Leah downloaded a music app, laughing at how I had no applications. Before leaving it opened on the playlist. "The Lonely, Ocean-Accompanied, Writer." It read. I reread it a couple times to convince myself it was real. A lovely name, but is that how they see me?

"Chill out, Romeo." Leah giggled. "I can practically see you overthinking everything. Just relax and listen to the songs, maybe they'll tell you something."

I wrapped my arms around her neck, hugging her closely before leaving to listen to the playlist.

~~~

As I shut the door behind me I pressed my back against it. I've never felt so scattered before. I looked for the volume button, turning it up before hitting play.

The songs, quiet but emotional. As though you had just lie down on the grass to cry or relieve tension or reminisce. They felt like a memory I had trouble recalling.

The songs seemed to renew me, before I heard one I distinctly remembered hearing before. From high-school theater club, a time in my life that was fond to me. I do remember Y/N telling me they loved musicals, hearing them hum along to Heathers while I wrote.

A song unlike most others on this list.

"When He Sees Me" from Waitress.

~~~

Y/N's POV

"Oh, Yoba. What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door, And I can't close it?" I belted out the lyrics as loud as I wanted, the tears streaming down my face unwavering.

The good side to owning your own farm is you could scream along to your songs without people to complain. You had been replaying this part of the song for awhile now. He was all you could seem to think about.

Your head was swarmed with thoughts of Elliott. Some where he reciprocated your feelings and others where he shut you out. Every time you built a daydream where he loved you unconditionally you trampled it with the thoughts of his rejection.

You brought your knees up to your chest, resting your head between them as you cried.

~~~

Elliott's POV

We had had conversations about musicals, perhaps that's why they chose this song? Maybe they thought since my school had a play of Waitress that it'd fit. But I know they liked other Waitress songs, why weren't those added? Only this one.

After that song came another, "I Hear A Symphony" one I've never heard. As the song started all I could see was Y/N. I could hear them singing along, their smile, their eyes averting to mine for the thousandth time.

Y/N was my symphony.

The powerful, breathtaking ocean couldn't compare to the awkward farmer that ran across town just to give me their best sweet pea flowers and be the first thing I saw as I left my quaint cabin.

They brought the motivation and inspiration for 8 hour writing sessions, they brought me food when they knew I'd forgotten to eat between writing the book and planning on what to write next.

They were something I could never dream of losing. I wished to live the rest of my life with their support.

If telling them my feelings means I'd lose them, then I couldn't dream of making such a selfish decision.

~~~

Y/N's POV

I trudged my way into town. After last night's crying session my eyes still felt a bit dry, if I'm honest I cried when I woke up as well. The loneliness felt suffocating in such a lonely little house. But I needed some new seeds. The stone path drawing all my attention as I walked.

As I walked into Pierre's it wasn't hard to tell that people could see something was off. After buying my seeds I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning around to find Elliott.

"Y/N are you feeling alright? You look as though you've been distressed lately." You motion to him to follow you and walks out of the store behind you.

You take a deep breath as you start to tear up a bit more. He reaches for your face as he lifts it up, looking at the pooling tears.

So many things, the things you could have said. But they didn't come up. Instead a vision of his face of discomfort at your confession. You couldn't bear it. You couldn't tell him.

"I've just been stressed. I'm sorry for worrying you, Elliott." You sigh, attempting to put up a fake smile as you wipe your eyes. He retracts his hand as he looks guilty. Fuck does he feel like it's his fault?

"Well I'm willing to listen to your troubles if you ever need." He also puts on a strained smile as you both part ways.

"This is for the best." They both whisper as they leave.

[birdy-bat-writes]

Damian Wayne - Civilian crime solver

Request: Could you do headcanons or a scenario about Damian with a friend or s/o that is really into mysteries and goes around investigating cases even though they're really in over their head? Bonus points for shenanigans. Thank you!

Of course, amazing Anon! Great suggestion! And hey, why do friends or lovers when we can do both?? ;) I hope you enjoy this!

A/N: Um… My Headcanons are basically just fanfictions with sentences that don’t flow into paragraphs. I split it into 2 parts. I Really liked writing this one though. I love Damian. This one came out kinda angsty though, sorry about that. But it has a sweet ending.

Part 2 here

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-       You met Damian when you both were in the sixth grade. He was quite the indignant 11-year-old. Unfortunately for you, this fellow was your lab partner for the year.

-       You noticed his distaste for most people, but he didn’t have it with you. You couldn’t have known at the time, but the reason for that was that you were the only person in the room Damian saw as someone of equal intellect. It was the way you were organized and level-headed. You were independent and self-sufficient.

-       Truth be told, the only major difference between your mindsets was that you weren’t as cocky.

-       Made sense though, since your mother was an environmental toxicologist. Your home was pretty full of science equipment since you could remember. You were always curious as a child, and of course your proud mother encouraged it and taught you bit-by-bit how to use the tools. You idolized her and your father, who passed away when you were younger.

-       Over the course of your partnership with Damian, you grew to tolerate each other, and then even enjoy each other’s company. By the time You were both 12, you had a pretty solid friendship.

-       You discovered this when he invited you over to his house for his birthday and his family nearly choked, had a stroke, or checked if you were a robot. He had to explain to you that he didn’t bring friends over very often.

-       “I made an exception for you because you are far closer to me than anyone else and I enjoy your company.”

-       You guys hang out all the time now and talk about personal stuff and just joke about things. It makes you really happy when Damian laughs. He often found himself thinking about how much more often he’s been doing it since he met you.

-       “Hey, what do you want to be when you grow up, Dames?”

-       “Well, I’d like to follow in my father’s footsteps.” You assumed that meant running Wayne Enterprises. You were half right.

-       “I want to be a detective.”

-       “Really?”

-       “Yeah, like my dad was.”

-       “He’d be proud of you.”

-       You had a love for forensics and special permission from your chemistry teacher to use the advanced chem lab after school. You were her TA after all, and Damian used that time to sit with you and chat while you worked.

-       “Y/N, what are you analyzing?”

-       “Um… It’s a mud sample.”

-       “From?

-       “The Gotham botanical gardens.”

-       “Why?” Why are you analyzing dirt from Poison Ivy’s crime scene from last night?

-       “Promise you won’t freak out?” He nodded. “I heard on the news that Poison Ivy was using monster plants to terrorize people. And they looked kind of like yellow trumpet vines you find a in the Gotham gardens. I was just checking the dirt for any chemicals that could have altered the plant growth.”

-       Damian was stunned and speechless. Something he experienced rarely, if ever. “Y/N, messing with this stuff is dangerous. maybe you should let Batman and the GCPD handle this.”

-       “Come on, Dami. Please don’t say that. I want to do this; I want to help people. If I figure this out first, I can tell the GCPD.”

-       “I’m just worried for your safety.” He couldn’t deny that your work was brilliant, but he couldn’t let you put yourself in harm’s way either.

-       “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

-       He ultimately told you it was alright with him if you were careful. What he meant by that was that he was going to spy on you and keep you away from any and everything that was dangerous.

-       Robin would follow you to your house from the shadows to make sure you got home safe and Damian would check in with you on your files. As your determination to solve cases increased, his desire to ask you why increased as well.

-       “I just think it’s fun, Damian.” Wow you were a bad liar.

-       “There’s more to it.”

-       “What?”

-       “Why are you actually doing this?”

-       “Because I want to.” You were sterner this time. Damian noticed and decided to drop it for now. He offered to walk you home like he usually did but you declined.

-       That night, you decided to investigate a lead you didn’t tell Damian about. It led you an abandoned building in old Gotham. You were scanning the second floor for anything out of the ordinary until you heard a voice approaching from the corner.

-       You ran into the nearest room and hid. The voices were getting closer. “Falcone wants this job done tonight. Don’t f*** up.” You were terrified.

-       Suddenly, your mouth was covered by a green gloved hand. You wanted to yell but you heard him shush you. You turned quietly to meet eyes with a domino mask. It was Robin. You didn’t have enough time to process everything that happened but at the end of it all you ended up on the sidewalk next to an ambulance and police cars.

-       Deciding you had enough for one day, you headed home.

-       The next day at school you seemed quiet and so did Damian. At the end, you walked over to Damian to ask if he wanted to hang out.

-       “Not at the lab.”

-       “Okay… we can watch a movie if you want.”

-       “Alright.”

-       “Cool. I’ll just go get my stuff.” He saw you walking in the direction of the lab and something sparked in him. He stopped you.

-       “I’ll get it.”

-       “What? I can get it. It’s fine.”

-       “Just stay here, Y/N.” He was a bit too curt for your liking.

-       “Don’t tell me what to do.”

-       “Just listen to me for once.”

-       “Why are you being like this?!”

-       It turned into a yelling match. Damian’s emotions got the better of him and it ended with a “You could have died last night!”

-       Tip of the hat to him *clap* *clap*. That’s how you found out he was Robin.

-       It made sense really. You shared a heartfelt conversation about how he trusted you but he didn’t want you getting hurt. He knew what it was like out there and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.

-       You promised to keep his secret and he made a compromise with you; you could help him with forensics for his cases with Batman as long as you never went out into the field.

-       Then you went an watched the movie you wanted to.

-       “Hey Dames, I need to tell you something.” He turned his head to you. “You had asked earlier why I was so obsessed with the cases… my dad died investigating Falcone’s drug cartel. I guess got a bit too into it… I just thought you deserved to know.” You shared a look of sympathy and for the first time in your friendship, he hugged you. It held for a while, but it wasn’t awkward, just comforting, as if you both said that you were there for each other.

-       Skip to the point where your working with him and Batman was normal. Well… as normal as it could get. You and Damian blew the Batcave circuit breaker. Twice.

-       You would always get results before Bruce managed to figure out how. Tim liked you specifically because you could make Bruce look very confused.

-       You and Damian would pass notes in class in code about new information from cases. It started to make people gossip about you two. It didn’t help that you both always stayed back late together and showed up to class alone, before anyone else.

-       It began to scare people because Damian doesn’t bother to spend time with other humans but with you, he like?? Willingly?? Does it??

-       You would work late nights with the boys and keep track of how much sleep they each were getting. If anyone fell too short, you sent them up to bed. It actually backfired on you once because you were very sleep-deprived and didn’t want to admit it, so Jason picked you up and dragged you to your room in the manor while Tim and Dick smiled cheekily. “Oh, how the turntables.” ;D

-       Damian would sleep when you forced him, but he would still have his days. He believed he was above sleeping???

-       This boy refuses to admit he’s tired. Even when he looks like a jittery racoon. So, you bring him hot chocolate in the mornings, (courtesy of Alfred) with a hint of a lot of caffeine (courtesy of Tim).

-       Ever since you started spending so much time at the manor, you got much closer with Damian and his brothers. You felt a sense of family and care there.

-       Your favorite nights were the ones where your mom would let you sleep over and you would stay late in the cave working with Damian. The serenity of the cave and the faint glow of the computers always made it feel like some alternate plane of existence.

-       “Alright, Sherlock, you’ve been obsessed with this case for three days now. Let the computers do their work and take a nap.”

-       “Dami, I’m too ‘thinky’ to sleep.”

-       “’Thinky’?” you nodded and giggled at your superior use of vocabulary. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

-       You detected a hint of mischief in his voice and followed him up the cave staircase to the top of a ledge. He pulled a rope ladder out from behind the ledge and gestured for you to climb it.

-       You glanced at him once before hoisting yourself up and climbing onto the rocky surface. You looked up and the sight took your breath away. The ledge was a flat floor of the cave that overlooked the waterfall from the inside. If you looked down, you could see the dancing currents on the lower levels of the cave. The air was misty and cool, and you honestly had no idea that there was a view like this anywhere in the manor.

-       “You like it?”

-       “Its so beautiful.” You said, your voice full of awe. Damian sat down on the floor, against the cave wall and patted the ground next to him. He wanted to say something. Just regular makings of conversation, like the ones you always had. This time, for the first time, he felt like he didn’t know what to say to you, so opted to look at you.

-       The way the water reflected light on the cave walls made patterns of hazy light. The glow hit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. For the first time since he had met you, Damian saw you in a completely new way. He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t opposed to it either.

-       You broke the silence with, “You know, ever since I met you, and your family, I’ve never been happier.”

-       You looked back at him. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel butterflies and fireworks all at once.

[longinglook]

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw. 

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet. 

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing. 

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

[sapphia]

alright so i don’t write fanfiction anymore and i haven’t even really been in this fandom for years, but if i was writing supernatural, here’s how the destiel thing would have played out: 

they gay plotline would happen about season 9-11, pacing wise. cas and dean are close and have a shared bond, and know each other pretty well at this point, but things haven’t started getting repetitive yet plot wise. the season big bad is irrelevant because lets be honest they’re all pretty much the same. 

dean and cas have spent their time in purgatory together, and i’d move the purgatory reveal flashbacks from season 15 into season 8 alongside the normal flashbacks. 

you have your usual series opener in episode one with the massive conflict semi-resolving but also setting up the season’s big bad. at this point in episode one, cas sacrifices himself for dean specifically, but also helping advance the “mission” - however, while one of them had to die to keep the other alive so the job could be finished, it could have been either of them, not necessarily cas.

this of course spawns a bit of emotional angst, with dean being hit pretty hard by cas’s death. there’s a hint that his reaction is more emotion extreme than say, bobby or jo’s death, but still a bit less than if sam had died - and also notably takes it harder than sam. this sets up the fact that cas is more than just a tag along to dean. 

cas will be brought back about episode 4 (method irrelevant), and there’ll be an emotional reveal, but nothing too out of the ordinary. everyone’s just happy to see him alive again. there’ll be dialogue specific to dean and cas, of course, but just your generic “glad you’re back/what happened while i was away” catch up

episode 5 will have no destiel content, but there will be a minor male character who sort of flirts with dean. dean doesn’t reciprocate, and is flustered, but also doesn’t reject him (perhaps because he’s flustered), setting the stage for dean-is-not-straight-and-has-repressed-bi-feelings, but this is pretty minor and easily overlooked. sam witnesses this moment.

in episode 7, you’ll have a cas/dean centric ep, where they go off and investigate either by themselves or in a way that has sam occupied and away from them for a lot of the episode. they have a mini confrontation early/mid episode where dean says cas shouldn’t have sacrificed himself, that they could have found another way, that cas should have been the one to complete the mission and dean to die. 

cas’s response here will hint at his thoughts in 15x18 regarding what dean’s done for him, but much briefer. he implies that he’d rather dean had lived; dean is a good man, and cas sort of “owes” him this because dean has helped him find his humanity. he doesn’t confess his love or anything, but the implication that cas feels love (of some sort) because of knowing dean is definitely there. 

dean should be a little uncomfortable at the raw emotions of this scene, and pulls back, though castiel will remain earnest and completely unbothered by dean’s difficulty dealing with what he’s saying

the episode continues, and the hunt goes as normal, but towards the end, dean gets injured (head or face wound). cas heals him easily, but there is a moment that lingers a little too long, with cas’s hand on dean’s face. dean is a part of it - he feels it too - but it freaks him out and he ends the moment, pretending it didn’t happen. they carry on packing up/continuing the hunt/whatever they were doing before, but the final shot of the scene is dean looking at cas and wondering - what the hell was that? 

this is going to be played out pretty slow over the series, so in between the core relationship developing episodes there’ll be normal monster of the week episodes with just your normal amount of destiel subtext. the episode following cas and dean’s moment, for example, (episode 8 and 9) will be your average sam/dean/cas hunt with nothing more than a couple of small moments between cas and dean where cas is perhaps a little too intense and dean pulls away, or there’s an awkwardness between them, especially from dean’s side. episode 10 doesn’t have cas in it at all,  because dean has made an excuse to separate himself from cas - i.e. dean jumps at the opportunity to give cas a task that means he’ll be hunting separately to him and sam

episode 11 will be a sam/dean hunt, but in the middle of the episode they find a clue/information that they need cas’s help trying to decode. sam suggests praying for cas to show up, and dean says well go ahead then. sam doesn’t make a fuss about dean not doing it himself (though he may be a bit surprised) and he prays to cas - but nothing happens. dean sighs and rolls his eyes, and says “cas, you there? we need some help” and cas appears. 

sam is (sort of) mock offended that cas comes when dean calls and not him, and cas says that he was busy and would have heard sam eventually if he’d tried praying again later, but dean has an easier time breaking through via prayer than sam (ala the “dean and i share a more profound bond” moment in season 5(?i think). like then, sam is mock offended, but isn’t really surprised. dean is keen to move the conversation past this and get cas’s help with the hunt, which cas provides, and cas decides to stick around to help fight the episode’s monster. 

the episode facilitates a scene where cas and sam are left alone on the hunt with some downtime to talk (perhaps because dean is avoiding cas) and sam brings it up, a bit curious - does cas hear dean better because cas pulled him from hell? cas admits he isn’t sure exactly what the reason is - perhaps it also has something to do with the way dean has affected him as a person. he finds that despite himself, he cares for dean more deeply than anyone else - and his feelings remain unchanged by the fact that dean seems to be avoiding him right now. but he finishes by saying he can’t help that his thoughts are more attuned to dean at all times, and that he finds himself thinking of him far too often, which probably leads to dean’s prayers finding him easier than other people’s. 

sam is pretty shocked/surprised at this - it sounds like cas is saying he’s in love with his brother. cas doesn’t confirm this explicitly, but sort of agrees, saying something along the lines of “that is a possibility”, as though he’s not quite sure. 

sam’s still processing this - can angels even fall in love? cas assures him that they can (maybe gives an example of another angel this has happened to) though it doesn’t happen often and has never really ended well. 

the scene ends either a bit awkwardly, with sam still being “oh my god what is going on” and castiel being earnest and sort of oblivious to sam’s shock, or with an attempt at lightheartedness from sam. the episode continues as normal, though sam now gets to hunt with dean and castiel with the new secret knowledge that one of them is in love with the other one and the other one probably doesn’t know. but he doesn’t really know what to do with that information, so he does nothing, just observes. 

episode 13 has no cas in it again, and it’s a sam/dean hunt. but here’s where it gets interesting - the monster is preying on men at a gay bar. 

the hunt they’re on has people going missing who have recently frequented the bar. one of the bartenders there is obviously gay, and flirts with dean a little bit during their initial questioning, even giving him his number at the end, which throws dean. sam sees the end of this interaction and notes it with amusement. 

they continue investigating - clues (or another disappearance) lead back to the gay bar, so they decide they have to check it out again. when there, they spot the same bar-tender again, and sam makes a joking comment that dean will probably get more out of him than sam will, so dean better go talk to him. dean does, and manages to be a bit more casual now he’s not as taken off-guard. dean gets the information out of him that he needs, but the conversation also hits more casual/personal territory - come comments are about what it’s like doing the job dean does, etc. dean might make a cryptic comment that hints about the supernatural nature of their work, not that the bartender would pick up on it, and answers in a way that’s both true to dean’s actual life but could be mistaken as being a thing an fbi agent would say. the bartender is less flirty during this conversation, but when he does make flirty comments, dean takes it much better and continues the conversation easily, and despite himself dean finds himself warming up to this guy. 

the hunt continues. in the early scenes, when sam and dean roll into town, dean will see two guys heavily making out outside the club, and looks away (in a prudish/not wanting to watch someone’s PDA sort of way). later in the episode, either right before the climax or right after, there will be a moment where dean sees another moment of PDA between two guys (possibly more of a sweeter scene, like holding hands, or canoodling), and dean watches for a moment, somewhat longingly. the episode won’t address it, but this is his moment where internally he starts wondering if maybe he wants that. 

the episode heads towards the conclusion when the monster takes another victim - and lo and behold, it’s our bartender. but dean and sam are getting close to finding it, and they hunt it to it’s lair. sam deals with the monster while dean rescues the bartender. it’s a generic rescue scene, and dean is very compassionate and reassuring, and the bartender is quite freaked out, as to be expected. the wrap up scene, where they take him home/back to his car/wherever, has him asking dean about what else is out there, and dean is honest - there are lots of creatures that lurk in the dark. but hopefully the bartender won’t see any more of them. if he does, here’s dean’s card - call him and dean will come. the bartender makes a joke about using it for a booty-call/to get a date with dean, and dean jokes back in a way that rebuffs that, but in a light and friendly manner. 

the series continues. there is one more dean/sam hunt and then a dean/sam/cas hunt. dean seems a little but more at ease with cas during this.

in episode 16, dean gets a call from the bartender. he picks up the phone and makes a joke about how this wasn’t supposed to be used for booty calls - before turning serious at the bartender’s answer. something is going down in that town again, and he wants dean to come check it out. dean promises he’s on his way and hangs up. 

sam is ready to go with dean, but dean tells him he’s going to go on his own. sam is surprised, but lets him. 

dean goes to the bartender’s town and investigates. something is going down, and this time the bar tender helps him along the way. there is an easy chemistry between the two of them, the sort of familiarity characters have when meeting dean and sam for the second or third time rather than the first. the bartender assists in the investigation, so is around dean a lot, and flirts with him on occasion. in contrast the previous episode, dean is much more at ease with it, he even flirts back a little at one point. but it could still all be in good fun - it doesn’t have to imply anything. 

3/4 of the way through the episode, before they go after and kill the monster, there is a slow/waiting/resting scene where dean and the bartender have the opportunity to just chat. they talk about the monster/hunting/the lifestyle a wee bit - and dean shows him something about the monster on the laptop, or in a book, or gives him a weapon and shows him how to use it - whatever it is, they get physically close for some reason. the bartender makes another flirtatious comment, and dean isn’t too sure how to respond this time. the bartender shrugs it off - it’s just some fun, he knows dean’s straight, it’s fine. 

dean’s mind is racing a hundred miles a minute, and he’s feeling an absolute cascade of emotions. maybe, he croaks out, maybe he isn’t as straight as you might think.

it’s pretty clear where this is going lol. they have a moment, they kiss, idk maybe they have sex, maybe it’s implied or left ambiguous. camera cuts away. 

when we come back to them, the plot has accelerated and it’s time to go after the monster (immediately, right now, before anyone can talk about what just happened). they hunt the monster, dean does the bulk of the work but there’s a crucial moment where bartender saves dean, mirroring the way dean saved him in his first appearance and allowing dean to finish the monster off. 

the wrap up/goodbye scene is a bit awkward, both not too sure where they stand, but there is a moment where dean admits that he liked what happened between them. but it’s pretty obvious it can’t continue - dean has to keep hunting, and the bartender is not here for that life - he likes all his limbs attached. they keep the door open though about seeing each other in future - maybe a comment about where dean’s based, and the bartender says he’s heading through that way in a month or so, maybe he can pop in and say hi, and dean agrees. 

dean goes back to the bunker, reconnects with sam who’s wrapped up his b-plot. dean is deliberately vague about the case details, and sam gets the feeling something’s off. then dean gets a call, and he takes it - but he’s squirrelly about it. 

sam’s suspicious and is worried something is really wrong. he follows dean and listens to his call - he hears dean say “hey [bartender]”, and the conversation that follows, which basically boils down to - the bartender is actually going to be in dean’s area next week instead, it turns out, maybe they could catch up, and dean says sure, but his brother is around, and dean hasn’t exactly told him about what happened or come out to him, so they have to be a bit on the downlow. he doesn’t want to seem sleazy, but maybe they could get a hotel room? cut to sam, looking pretty surprised lmao and sort of creeping away quietly, feeling bad for eavesdropping on such a personal conversation and now processing the fact that his brother is (he thinks) gay. 

ep 17 is a week later and  dean and sam are called to a case miles away - right when the bartender is supposed to visit. dean takes a private call where he regretfully tells the bartender he’s not going to be around - they won’t be able to catch up this time. this secretive behaviour reminds sam (and the audience) of dean’s secret. 

sam sort of spends the whole episode waiting for dean to come out to him, which doesn’t happen because this is still really new to dean and he’s not sure he’s ready for it. it’d be kinda fun/funny if they were fucking around with some sort of truth goddess or something, but regardless there’ll be opportunities for sam to poke dean about general things he might not be saying. sam also drops a couple of massive hints that he thinks gay people are awesome which dean obliviously ignores (or maybe starts cluing into towards the end of the episode). 

but by the time they’ve defeated whatever it is they’re hunting, dean still hasn’t said anything about being gay so while they’re in the impala diving home, sam’s like “you know, if you were gay, i’d be okay with it” and dean’s like “yeah i’m not gay” and sams like “I heard you on the phone with bartender, sounded pretty gay” and dean’s like “okay yeah we banged. but i’m not gay, i’m bi” and sams like “woah. and you never said anything?” and dean talks about how it’s sort of been coming on for a while now but he’s been trying to ignore it because he didn’t think he was that person, or maybe how there was something with a guy a long time ago but he repressed it, etc etc. and sams like “well that’s cool and you’re still my big brother, i still love you, that’s never going to change” yada yada and there’s an awesome emotional scene and they drive off into the sunset. 

BUT we still have the cas/dean plotline to wrap up in the last few episodes. sam know knows cas loves dean and dean’s bi but doesn’t know if dean loves cas and also doesn’t want to say anything in case he shouldn’t. but also wonders whether he should because it seems like dean might have feelings for cas, so as we head towards the final episodes sam keeps trying to push cas and dean into situations alone together but it’s not working very well, although they’re obviously really fucking close and sam can see just how much dean loves cas and cas loves dean but neither of them can actually see it, and eventually (like, one episode from the finale) cas says something implying quite obviously that he has feelings for dean and then leaves and dean’s totally oblivious and sam is practically banging his head against a brick wall out of frustration and just caves and is like “you know cas is in love with you, right?” and deans like “no” and sam is like “well he is. he told me” and dean’s like “whaaaaat” 

but there’s no time for dean to like, talk to cas about this, only a small amount of time where he processes his feelings for him (maybe like one scene together a but a third character is there the whole time, so dean can think about what sam told him, but can’t say anything to cas) and then the finale is really kicking off, and they’re fighting whatever the big bad is, and again there’s comes this point where someone has to sacrifice themselves and this time dean’s like “no cas i told you earlier, i don’t want you sacrificing yourself, this time it’s my turn” and cas is says “no let me, i want to do this” and dean’s like “yeah but i don’t want you to because i love you” and does the thing that should kill him

except at the last minute something else happens which stops that (sam like kills the big bad by taking it by surprise or something) and so dean doesn’t die (maybe he’s a bit injured though and cas has to heal him) and cas goes to him and there’s a very emotional scene where they elaborate on the love confession and kiss each other and sam’s like “i can’t believe a month ago i thought these men were straight”. 

and because this is supernatural something immediately goes wrong and by killing this big bad they’ve actually triggered the rising of the next big bad so there’s your plot for the next season you’re welcome, but hey now they’re gay together you’re welcome SPN writers please pay me to reboot your series in the way dean deserved. 

[spiralingsoftly]

Proud

*This is my first time writing fanfiction in a long time. It's also my first BNHA and TodoDeku fanfiction period. Critiques welcome!*

Izuku Midoriya sat on the couch in the living room, his phone held against his ear as he stared absently out the window and listened as his mother went on about one topic after another. He loved his mother, truly he did. Ever since his father had left, his mother had been his biggest supporter even if she was overbearing at times – even now that he was in his thirties.

“Izuku? Honey? Did you hear what I just said?” his mother Inku asked, her worry ringing loud and clear through the phone.

“Hmm?” Izuku asked in reply, inwardly shaking himself out of the daze he’d fallen into as he listened to his mom’s voice and gazed out the window facing the couch upon which he was sitting.

The apartment was small, much smaller than one most people would consider appropriate for an up and coming hero like he was. But it was home and Izuku loved it. After he had graduated from UA, he’d worked at the Endeavor agency with Bakugo and Todoroki for a while until he had moved on to more freelance work. It wasn’t the glamourous hero life he’d envisioned when he had first began training with All Might, but it was fulfilling and Izuku honestly loved what he did every day.

“I’m sorry, mom. I spaced out again. Can you repeat that?” he said with a slight sigh, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck even though his mother couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Oh Izuku. Are you sure that living in that apartment is still a good idea, honey? I know you love it there and have made it home, but I just worry….” Inku trailed off, not quite sure how to continue and not wanting to upset her son.

“Mom, I promise I’m fine. Things are slow with work right now and so my mind just wanders a bit more than before. But I’m okay.” Izuku replied, smiling softly despite how sad he truly felt inside. He hoped that the sadness didn’t seep through into his words, although he knew that it probably had.

Leaving the Endeavor agency to be a freelance hero had been the most difficult decision of his life, and almost every day he questioned himself as to if he had made the right choice or not. The work under Endeavor had been difficult and unrelenting. But it had shaped him into the hero that he was today. At the same time, it had also brought one of the best parts of his life crashing to the ground in the process.

“I know, honey. I just worry. I’ll let you go so that you can get something to eat – I know you haven’t been eating as well as you should be. Don’t even try and convince me otherwise, young man. I’m still your mother.” Inku said with a soft laugh before they bother said their goodbyes and ended the call.

Shaking his head and smiling softly, Izuku put his phone on the table beside the cough as his eyes turned back toward the sky outside. It was a crisp, cool fall day in mid-October. The leaves on the trees were turning brilliant colors and the air was turning colder by the day. This used to be his favorite time of year. Being able to walk down the street, wrapped up in his warmest coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands kept warm by a pair of hand knitted gloves. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face as he walked thru the streets, hand in hand with his significant other.

Shoto.

That’s why his mind had wandered as he had been talking to his mother on the phone. The sky was the exact color of Shoto’s eye on his left side. While he loved looking into Shoto’s eyes, it was always his left eye that Izuku loved looking into most. Icy, beautiful blue.

They had publicly gotten together during the winter of their third year at UA. To their surprise, none of their other classmates had been too terribly surprised when they announced that they were now dating. It had been Bakugo who informed them that the whole class knew that they had secretly been dating since the previous spring. The brash blonde had gone on to say that they were both stupid to think that the rest of their classmates wouldn’t have put two and two together when the two of them kept having “study session” in one of their bedrooms. Apparently, they hadn’t hidden their relationship as well as they had hoped they had.

Working together at Endeavor’s agency had been great at first, even if it was also very awkward. Enji Todoroki had never been a kind or cuddly man. He had gotten ‘nicer’ over the years as he atoned for his wrongs against his children and wife – going so far as to bring Shoto’s mother home again to be with her children. But the elder Todoroki was still a cold man, bordering on somewhat cruelly emotionless at times. But, despite all that, being able to work as a hero in an official capacity with his boyfriend was something that Izuku had all but leapt at being able to do.

It had happened slowly overtime. An offhand comment here, a rude remark there. Enji wasn’t homophobic – Shoto’s older brother had a boyfriend as well and Enji was accepting of them and his children’s friends who had same sex significant others. However, there was always a tenseness when it came to his relationship with his youngest son. More than once, Izuku had brought the topic up with Shoto. Explaining to his boyfriend how uncomfortable the comments made him. Shoto, to his credit, had grown so much as a person since Izuku’s words at the sports festival their first year at UA had broken through his hesitancy to fully embrace the fire side of his quirk. However, little things like his father’s comments didn’t always register with him in the same way they did with the rest of the world.

After once particularly difficult rescue mission, he and Shoto had been sharing some quiet time together in one of the breakrooms at the agency when Enji had come in and made some rude comment before leaving again a few minutes later. That comment had been the straw that broke the camels back. After an emotion filled conversation, an argument really, he and Shoto had decided that they weren’t working as a couple. They still loved each other deeply but being a couple while working together at his father’s agency just wasn’t working anymore. Between tears, they decided that Izuku would stay at the apartment they shared together and Shoto would return home to live with his mother and siblings.

Blinking a few times, Izuku brought himself out of the memory he had just been reliving. Reaching a hand up to his face, he wasn’t surprised to learn that he was silently crying as his mind replayed the memories of the day that his world had completely changed. He had stopped by his mother’s house on his way home that day, and by the time he got home Shoto had already been there, collected his things, and left. The only way Izuku had known that the other man had been there at all was a note that had been left on their kitchen counter. It was written on a small square of pink paper. In Shoto’s unique script were the words “I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”.

Izuku knew that he probably should have thrown the note away. Part of him still wished that he would, even though almost six months had passed since they parted. But he’d kept it. It helped ease the ache a little bit, even in some macabre way.

**************

Shoto Todoroki sighed heavily as he reached the floor where the apartment, he shared with his boyfriend Izuku was. He was tried and warring with himself internally as to if he should actually go inside or not. Slowly he approached the door, his fingertips lightly brushing against the cool metal of the door before he gently knocked and pushed the door open slightly. Izuku never locked the door during the day, even though Shoto had begged him repeatedly to do so.

Sticking his head in slightly, Shoto smiled as he spotted the green haired man curled up on the sofa sound asleep. Opening the door enough so that he could walk inside the apartment, Shoto toed his shoes off and gently sat his bag on the floor next to the door. Straightening back up, he took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs as he walked softly toward the living room and over to the couch. Kneeling down in front of the sleeping man, Shoto gently ran the pad of his thumb across Izuku’s cheek.

“Zuku? Hey Zuku. Wake up, babe.” He said softly, retracting his hand from the others face as Izuku’s eyelashes began to flutter before opening to reveal beautiful green eyes.

“S-sho? Shoto? W-what’re you doing here?” Izuku asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I came home. If you’ll still have me, that is….” Shoto replied softly, looking into Izuku’s eyes with silent hope.

“But what about your dad’s agency?”

Shoto shrugged before answering. “I left. He begged me not to. Told me that the agency would be mine after he retired. But I told him I didn’t want it. I wanted to build my own agency, my own legacy. It’s my quirk, right? Not his?”

Izuku’s face lit up with the most stunning smile that Shoto had ever seen before the green haired man flung himself into the other’s lap.

“It’s your quirk, Sho. It’s always been yours. He might have been the one to give it to you – along with your mom’s quirk of course. But it’s yours.” Izuku replied before leaning in and kissing Shoto deeply.

Reaching forward, Shoto held the smaller man to him as he lost himself in the kiss. This was where he was meant to be. Sharing his life with the up and coming number two hero, Izuku Midoriya. Not trapped in some stuffy office in some agency being led by his father. When the kiss broke, their eyes remained closed as they both sat in silence, just soaking in the moment before either of them spoke.

“Does this mean I can come back? I can come home?” Shoto asked quietly, part of him dreading that the answer would be no.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open and he smiled before affectionately rubbing his nose against Shoto’s.

“Yes, Sho. You can come home. To our home.”

The bi-color haired man decided to forgo a verbal reply, instead opting to lean in again and capture the smaller man’s lips with his own again. They shared several additional sweet kisses before parting again. Sitting in silence again, Izuku once again remembered the note that Shoto had left the day that he left. Pressing another quick kiss to Shoto’s lips, Izuku silently got up and walked over to a cabinet that sat near the door into the kitchen. Opening one of the drawers, he took something out of it before closing the drawer again and returning to Shoto. Sitting back down on the other man’s lap, Izuku looked up at the other and smiled again.

“I kept it. I don’t know why, but I kept it.” He said, holding the paper up for Shoto to read.

Quickly reading it, Shoto blushed a soft pink as he looked down toward the floor. Huffing a quick laugh, Izuku reached out and lifted the bi-color haired man’s chin so he could look into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you, Sho. Always have been, always will be.” He said before once again kissing the other man.

As they kissed, the paper was forgotten when Izuku wrapped his arms around his now returned boyfriend’s neck. As Shoto shifted them and rose from the floor in order to head to their bedroom, the last thing that Izuku saw before being kissed again was what was written on the note.

“I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”

[anime-lover-forever-1127]

A Woman With Vision {Arthur Leywin} - 20. Beast Glades

Beast Glades

*****

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "The Beginning After The End", it belongs to its original creator TurtleMe. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited. I get much of the text, especially the fight scenes and thought, aside from my oc's, from the original novel, which can be found on Library Novel. Please support the official release.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

I will be writing out scenes even if my Oc isn't in them. As long as she's mentioned, or influencing the characters in some way. This may seem a bit annoying. But that's just how I write. I like to embed my characters into the story line. Because of this, most of the dialogue/scenes will come from the original work.

Playlist

For the playlist you can go to my YouTube channel, which is under "Anime-lover-forever-1127" and click on the playlist titled "A Woman With Vision {Arthur Laywin}". Or you can use this link watch?v=GYlAaNM7WS8&list=PLVKYkztH1Zd8bdl2_a1C8F6u8gPPwfa6D&ab_channel=7clouds 

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 30 and chapter 54 of the comic

*****

Today's Special

No one tells you that the hardest part of MOTHERHOOD is when your kids grow up

~ sitiraihana

*****

{Morgana P.O.V.}

Crossing through the teleportation gate, my senses jolted from the scenery. The City of Xyrus had the most teleportation gates among the cities since they were the only way one could enter it, it being a floating city and all. The one we crossed led us directly to the front entrance of the area known as the Beast Glades.

The chirps of birds, occasional cries and roars of beasts, and the constant sound of water flowing filling the background all created an enticing symphony of nature. The sight of tall trees and numerous hills covered in various plants and shrubs made it hard to believe that this beautiful landscape was filled with magical beasts capable of killing even the strongest mages. However, because of abundances of natural resources on the outskirts, it was mostly only the lower rank beasts that inhabited this deeper an adventurer traversed, the more mysterious and treacherous the landscape turned, filled with the lairs of powerful beasts that have amassed their treasures and power in the solitude's of unexplored regions in the Beast Glades.

I took a sip of the crisp air as Jasmine and Arthur arrived behind me through the teleportation gate when, suddenly, I heard a wish, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Sylvie scurry off.

"Wait, Sylv! Where are you going?" Arthur called after her, dumbfounded.

Sylvie transmitted a vague response; I could feel her emotions of excitement as she sent out thoughts about her plans to train as well.

"Did she just?" I asked, pointing at the direction my baby just ran off to.

"Yep, she just ran away from home." He answered weekly, his tone going a little high.

"Oh, Arthur." I sighed, pulling him close and giving him a shoulder hug. I had only known Sylvie for a couple of months, and I felt as if something was missing without her here.

But she was Arthur's bond, and had never left him since the day she had hatched. I could only imagine how big the hole in his heart must feel.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked. "We could take a break."

Arthur shook his head, "We just got here. Plus, I'm only a little…" He struggled, unsure of what world to use, "...uneasy. But… I can sense her whereabouts. So it should be fine."

"You can sense her whereabouts?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded, "Wait! You can't?"

I shook my head.

"Close your eyes, and try searching for her aura."

I did what he had said. I could see the mana floating around me, but no Sylvie. I opened my eyes, "Nothing. No trace of her. Maybe we're not just there yet."

Sylvie had explained to me that the longer me and Arthur were with each other, the stronger our mate bond would become. And the stronger it becomes, the easier it would be for me to create an adopted bond with Sylvie. Of course that would only be possible after spending time with her. And if I ever got a bond, it would be the same with Arthur. He would form a bond, through me, until he had a second, slightly weaker bond, with my own, on his own.

So because of that, until my bond with Sylvie was complete, I would be using Arthur's bond, to support my own developing one with her.

Now it was Arthur's turn to give me a sympathetic and reassuring hug. "It's fine mama bear."

"You're right." I nodded, "Knowing you can still

"She'll be okay. Mana beasts have a natural instinct to grow stronger. She must've felt very suffocated being in a sheltered environment all of her life," Jasmine pips up , walking next to Arthur.

"I know." I nod, "But that honestly doesn't make it hurt any less."

Jasmine lets out a chuckle, "It's like your her mother."

"She is" - "I am"

Arthur and I answer at the same time.

Jasmine stops a bit, staring at us long and hard, before smiling, "I think I get what your parents meant now. Well, to each their own."

Both me and Arthur smile at that. She really is a great woman.

Putting her hand on our shoulder, she signalled for us to start moving. "There's a place I wish to visit first before going to a dungeon. We have to hurry though; it gets a little more dangerous at night."

Willing mana into her body, Jasmine bolted off into the distance, her wind attribute mana propelling her even faster.

I followed after her, forming two gales of wind below my feet as I dashed after her, Arthur doing the same, followed.

Everyone in a while, Arthur would give me an update on Sylvie.

"I just hope that she doesn't go after bigger beasts until she's ready." I sigh.

"Don't worry. She knows she has us if she ever gets in over her head. She knows she can always ask us for help." Arthur says, petting my head.

*****

The journey lasted a few hours and it began to grow dark. The only reason Arthur and I had been able to keep up with Jasmine, even when she was at a dark yellow stage, was Arthur had been using mana rotation throughout the way, and I had controlled mine to only use the bare minimum amount mana needed to create a controlled, constant amount of wind. This skill had become almost second nature to me now as I utilised it unconsciously whenever I exerted mana.

By late evening, we had cleared through a dense forest and arrived at a small clearing. Surrounded by trees, there was a small field of grass with a stream of clear water flowing through it.

"We'll camp out here for a few days," Jasmine announced as she set down her bag and took out a couple of items.

"Weren't we going to a dungeon right away?" Arthur asked, setting down his bag as well.

She simply shook her head, picking up a few branches of wood and gathering them together.

Well Arthur and I went into the forest, finding some decent-sized branches to make a fire with. After a bit, we had a fire crackling and popping in the middle of our camp. Making myself comfortable, I leaned against Arthur who had removed his mask and sat silently by Jasmine, next to the fire.

Trying to break the silence, Arthur asked Jasmine, "What made you want to become an adventurer?"

"…"

Her gaze never left the fire and after a few minutes of more awkward silence, I just stared back at the flame, assuming she didn't want to answer.

"I wanted to get away from my family." I almost missed what she said from how quietly she spoke amidst the wood of the fire snapping fiercely.

"I see… were you on bad terms with your family?" Arthur responded, his eyes focused on the fire.

I choose to just listen to their conversation.

"…"

"The Flamesworth House was a major contributor to the war against the elves. Our house has provided many powerful mages, both conjurers and augmenters. Our lineage in the fire attribute element was second to none. We took great pride in this, because fire is considered to be the most powerful of the elements," she stated monotonously.

Despite her short sentences, this had been the most Jasmine had talked in one sitting.

"But Jasmine, aren't you a…" Arthur asked, looking up at her as she nodded in response.

"Since early on, when I had first awakened and started training, my family tried to test my mana for fire affinity. I went through various tests so they could see how my mana was exerted and how it flowed through my mana channels." She took a pause and poked at the fire before continuing on. "When it was made clear that I had no aptitude for the fire attribute, my family regarded me as lesser."

"…"

Arthur didn't know how to respond to her. For the first time, the always aloof and cold Jasmine seemed…vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened…" was the only response Arthur managed to utter.

But so much for staying silent, I stood up to my knees and crawled over to Jasmine until I was face to face with her. Looking her directly in the eyes, I told her firmly. "Your family is wrong… and crazy." Her eyes went wide at my statement. "Wind magic is probably stronger than fire when you get down to it! All your family is, is a walking matchstick. All they can do is shoot out flames, a pillar if they're really getting creative. But with wind magic… we can create tornadoes, fly, move objects across a room. I mean it was because of wind magic we covered a distance that would have taken us days, in mere hours. Do I really have to say more?"

Jasmine's eyes widened and she shook her head, she gave me a faint smile. "The Twin Horns have treated me well and I don't dislike what I am."

I smiled, "I know that. I can tell it on your face whenever you're with your party, that you're clearly happy. But I'm just letting you know that your family is wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but theirs… is just plain stupid."

I glanced at her palm as Jasmine formed a small swirl of wind, different emotions running through her face as she peered at her hand.

This world was a place of discrimination and classification. The hierarchical roots embedded into this land would never truly disappear. Normal humans were considered second-rate people, while even amongst mages, augmenters were discriminated against by conjurers. It went further than that where, unless one was a deviant or a dual element specialist, some elements were considered "higher class" than others.

Being born from a family of powerful fire attribute mages, she was discarded as inferior because of the elemental attribute she had; something that most mages would kill to acquire. She was a dark yellow augmenter skilled in fighting and mana manipulation at the ripe age of 24. Many would consider her a genius but from the standards she grew up with, she considered herself lesser.

We placed more wood to last through the coldest parts of the night and laid out our sleeping bags a few feet away so we could still feel the heat.

As we got ready to go to sleep, Arthur leaned into my ear and whispered, "I know subtlety isn't really your strong suit. It never has been."

I sent him a glare, "This better be building into a compliment."

He sent me a smile, "Well, more of a request. But I'm not shy to add one in there. Anyway, if we ever meet with nobility… and royalty again - assuming you haven't scared them enough yet. Could you at least try to hold it in. Until we least have a chance at beating them."

I huffed, "Speak for yourself. I already have my network ready. Of course it really isn't anything that great yet, but it has potential. The seeds are planted, and ready to sprout like a butterfly bush at a moment's notice." I winked at him.

He stared at me confused, "Who would-"

I cut him off, "Finishing school is quite boring when you've actually played the high society game. But, when it comes to making connections with little girls eager for your approval, there's nothing like it. As for informats, they're easy to buy. Mom and dad's allowance has always been generous, and I know exactly how to put it to good use." I smirked as I thought of the various amounts of blackmail I had collected for various families.

Arthur stared at me, wide eyed. "Damn, why didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged, "I thought you knew me?"

"I do!" He defended himself. "But I may have accidentally underestimated you. I thought your network may take you another two to three years. Sorry. Never again."

I smiled into the fire, "Well… If I'm being honest. It's nowhere near as good as my old one. But it's better than nothing. Information is the name of the game. And plus, every now and then, I do find a few pieces of gold." I said, remembering the little golden nugget of information I'd collected on a certain elf princess. I don't wanna be mean, but if she pushes my hand...

My eyebrows furrowed as I remembered, "Where's my compliment?" I pouted.

Arthur chuckled, "What you said to Jasmine, was truly amazing."

"Of course it was." I said, smiling and accepting the compliment. I ran my fingers through his hair, and added, "Though, we really do need to work on your elements. You need to do so much more than just creating pillars of fire." I felt a sweat drop roll down the side of his neck as I began making plans. "I've made a lot of progress with my wind, though I definitely need to work on my water. Before we start school, I would like to start working with ice a little bit. Though I'm not sure how much I could exactly get done between practising wind, and working on water, and relearning the sword." I pouted, eyeing the blue blade Arthur wouldn't let me touch unless he knew for a fact I wouldn't drop it on myself.

As much as I hate to admit it, I don't really blame him for it. Considering he never lets me forget it, I know for a fact he remembers how bad my first sword training lesson went. And to be honest, as fun as it would be to swing it around again, I don't wanna know how well it would work out with my current build. It was too big for my current body. So until I grew a bit, I'd have to use a practice sword.

Eyes closed, I waited to drift off when I heard Jasmine mumble something.

"…It's weird. When I talk to you two, it doesn't feel like I'm talking to children."

I didn't respond. Pretending to be asleep, I hoped she wouldn't push further for a reply.

*****

"Good morning." Jasmine was up and cooking something over the fire by the time I had gotten up and out of my sleeping bag.

My stomach rumbled to remind me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon as I looked hungrily at the skewered fishes being grilled on the fire.

"Good morning! You should've woken me up, Jasmine. There's no need for you to do all of the chores on your own."

I turned my head to see Arthur rubbing his eyes.

"…I tried waking both of you up… But you wouldn't budge." Her half-closed eyes that give off an apathetic stare regarded us with concern. "If I didn't hear you breathing, I would've mistaken you for corpses."

"Haha…" Arthur let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry, I really need to fix that."

"You and me both." I nodded. I usually woke up early on my own. But if I didn't, then nobody could wake me up.

After devouring the grilled fish for breakfast, we put out the fire. Using the nearby stream to wash myself and my clothes.

Arthur put on his mask and swords, well I wrapped my cloak around my shoulder, and placed my contents lenses in, assuming we'd go hunting for some mana beasts around the area, when Jasmine stopped me.

"Your opponent for these few days will be me."

"Huh?" I couldn't help but be surprised at the turn of events. We came all the way here to spar?

"This area is close to the dungeon we will be exploring, but for these days, I want you to focus on fighting me. I noticed that your fighting style seems… awkward at times. Like, you know it in your head, but your body doesn't listen to you… or something like that." She told Arthur and then turned to me, "You have your control down. But you need to focus on increasing your mana amount. We can stay in a dungeon for days at a time. So you're going to need to work on that."

Unsheathing her two daggers, she pointed one at me, continuing, "We won't use any kind of mana for these next few days while sparring."

I hadn't expected Jasmine to catch on to what I had been worried about, but it was a good opportunity.

"Good idea," Arthur replied, unsheathing his short sword.

I sat down on the grass, getting ready to meditate.

{Arthur's P.O.V.}

"Use your other sword…" Jasmine's eyes flickered toward Dawn's Ballad.

"How did you know this was a sword?" I wasn't planning on hiding my weapon from her but I was still caught off guard.

"Knowing you, that black stick should be something more than just a cane or a practice stick," she shrugged, walking a few steps closer to me.

Giving her a confirming nod, I tossed the short sword to Morgana, who caught it with her eyes closed. From my position, I could see the mana around us, begin to gather towards her.

As the sword soundlessly glided out from its scabbard, the translucent blade glowed a light teal as it reflected the sun's strong rays.

Holding it out in front me, I positioned myself. "Ready when you are."

"Y-Yeah," Jasmine stuttered as her eyes remained glued to Dawn's Ballad.

We dulled the edges of our weapons using mana before beginning. Without mana strengthening my body, I realised just how much I had been neglecting myself. After a few swings, my arms felt heavy and my legs trembled as they pushed feebly off the ground.

This was my mistake. I knew of the limits that my juvenile body had, but instead of trying to fix my shortcomings, I chose only to mask it using mana.

While magic in this world was capable of many things, it should be only used as a supplement to your abilities, not a replacement to cover them.

I lunged out with a sharp thrust aimed at Jasmine's sternum. Even though our swords were coated to prevent fatal injuries, it would still leave bruises and even broken bones if taken lightly; this made the sparring experience much more intense and real.

Jasmine swung her two daggers down in an outward arc, parrying my lunge and knocking the blade of my sword into the ground.

I brought my rear foot forward to maintain balance as my teal blade sunk into the ground below her. However, by that time, Jasmine had already brought her daggers back into position to follow up with a quick, downward slash.

Prying out my sword, I immediately pivoted my body to the side to avoid the overhead slash. As her daggers grazed harmlessly past my loose shirt, I kicked her arm away and stepped away into a more comfortable distance.

My arms were burning from the quick, consecutive movements as I positioned my sword in a defensive stance.

"It's my win," Jasmine said, sheathing her two daggers deftly into their scabbards attached to her thighs.

"You're right," I laughed as I dropped Dawn's Ballad on the ground. We had sparred for a little less than five minutes but my arms and legs screamed in protest from overuse. Massaging my forearms, I picked my blade back up and slid it back into its black sheath.

The duel had ended with me with the upper hand, but I didn't have the strength to proceed. It was my loss.

"Hey Jasmine, I think I'm going to need more than a couple of days to work this out," I confessed with a chuckle.

Her lips curled up slightly as she nodded in agreement.

I had three years before I'd attend Xyrus Academy. During my time at school, I would have plenty of chances to focus on studying mana.

I knew what my priorities were at this time.

Making a rough calculation in my head, I held up two fingers. "Two years, Jasmine. I'll dedicate two years to getting my body truly adjusted to sword-fighting without relying on mana."

"That's it?" she said, surprised.

"Just watch," I smirked.

*****

A Butterfly bush is a really fast growing plant. I could have used weeds, but referring to an information network as weeds, doesn't sound nearly as nice.

Also, finishing school only takes about 6 weeks. So I didn't have to worry about that.

I get the whole bond system is a little confusing, especially with me throwing in mate bonds and secondary bonds. So if you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Because I do have plans to keep using and referencing the bonds - so it would be easier for you guys and less confusing, if you know what's actually happening. (Or if your just here for the romance - I guess you can sort of skip it - though again - their is the mate bond)

I feel like I should give you guys a heads up, that the next chapter is going to likely be on the shorter side (and the two after that as well). But man will it leave a huge impact on you guys. I'm actually willing to bet the title of the next chapter alone would be worth the hype (and the happiness and excitement you would get from four pages - why four you asks, one page for each word in the title.)

In fact, here's a little teaser (Feel free to try and guess what may be happening, and the contents of the paper):

Next Time~

Morgana untied the bright red ribbon and uncurled the scroll.

Her eyes widened as they flew over the contents of the paper, before tears began streaming down her cheeks.

[frogmanwritings]

How the writers have failed Roundhouse’s character

I’ve seen a fair bit of dislike towards Roundhouse and his character. I myself personally like Roundhouse, but I can definitely see the points of others, which I feel however can be put onto the blame of two factors that I will go through.

This is by no means trying to say that disliking the character is wrong, you can like or dislike any character you choose, but I feel that some of the reasons I will go over that be attributed to things outside of the in-world of the character.

Also new Twinkle chapter should be coming within the week, so if you’re following me for my fanfiction, have that to look forward to. <3

Anywho...

1. Development Roundhouse’s development throughout the first some issues is actually pretty good. 

#20 they give you the idea that Roundhouse doesn’t belong. He looks unsuspecting, acts unsuspecting and everyone is sure to point it out. Robin and Red Arrow are immediately against him being on the team, and Robin only agreed because he wanted Kid Flash on the team and they were a ‘group deal’. Even when Roundhouse shows usefulness, like when he was able to get a potential lead towards who the ‘Other’ is, Robin pays him no mind, and he is visibly rattled by the explosion that follows. And then back at base, he is picked on by Crush, and has to get Wallace to back him up.

#21, he is easily deflected by Gizmo’s technology, all while rambling about social media and ‘Viewtube’, and once Gizmo is defeated by Djinn, he isn’t given an assignment by Robin who gives everyone else something to do. And then, when he joins the girls in getting the kids out of the store, he quite blatantly fails, leading him to ride on Crush’s and Djinn’s success. But he also shows intelligence, with quick thinking and a partial sacrifice leading him to save New York when he gets launched into space with a nuke. This is where he seemingly dies.

#22, He is thought to be dead, and yet Kid Flash is the only one mourning him. Crush is dismissive, Robin puts blame on himself because he “wasn’t ready”, and Red Arrow calls it an “inevitability” and turns his death into a training session.

#23, it’s revealed that he is alive and didn’t try to reach out to the team because he believed that no one would care... and because he was grounded. When he returns to the team, we quickly see just how ‘normal’ he is in comparison to the rest of them, with their parent situations each heavily complicated, further pushing the narrative that he’s just an average kid with the most abnormal thing he has is a strict mother.

#25, we get to see just how he lives the nuke in space, and how he gets back. His concussed self hallucinates his dead sister helping out of the situation he gets in, likely because she’s the one he loved the most and the one he sook guidance in when she was alive, as well as brief insight into himself.

#26, he actually gets trusted to do something by Robin, and not just anything, but hack into the Batcomputer. He shows both awe and fear of Batman in the process, and while hacking, he shows that while smart, he isn’t perfect, and causes an alarm. Then, when the supposed Batman comes to attack, he hides in fear and has to be saved by Robin.

#27, he brings Wallace home for dinner. And here, he displays even more elements of being just an average and awkward kid, like with how his mother acts, how he’s convinced her that Crush is his girlfriend(revealing his attraction to her), some bits of his early life and more, as well as more insight into how he feels about his sister’s death and his powers, how it makes him feel that she’s the one who died.

And from here, is when his pivotal plot commences. He discovers Robin’s underground prison, and based on factors to be revealed, he releases the inmates. It backfires, with the villains attacking him and his teammates and inadvertently causing the ‘death’ of Deathstroke.

We get more character tidbits, like on how willing he is to help his friends, even against a foe he is very outclassed by in Lobo, how he cares for them in the face of danger, having little care for his own safety as opposed to them, and even how Robin and Red Arrow still doubts him when it’s revealed there’s a traitor among their ranks, doubting that he’d be capable of something like this.

And then, #34, is when we get the big reveal. But not before we get even further insight into Roundhouse. Robin interrogates him, and while Roundhouse is lying about how he didn’t take Djinn’s ring, he still reveals information about himself and even breaks down Robin’s choice of interrogation, further showing his intelligence. His insecurities, his guilt over his sister dying, how hard he tries because he wants so badly to be a hero but isn’t sure if he’s right for it.

And #35, the high point of this development. It’s revealed to the team that Roundhouse is the traitor and here he breaks down his background and why he did it. How close he was to Claire, how he saw her die, how he saw Robin swing away. Where he’s coming from is wrong, but the points he makes against Robin are correct. What Robin was doing was horrible, and Roundhouse just wanted to expose him for the bad person he was.

But his emotions get the better of him. Robin says it himself, he’s acted out thanks to a lot of stress coming from an emotional state. But when he perceived Robin acting mightier than him, he struck out and trapped Djinn in her ring. When Crush breaks from her restraints in rage to try and kill him, he accepts it, saying he deserves it, and is only saved by the intervention of Lobo.

Afterwards, he expresses grief and regret over his actions, and wants to help the team secure Crush. But after he gets left behind, he escapes and goes back home, ‘quitting’ the team and delving even deeper into his insecurities. Like how his sister was always better than him at everything and how his family was just ‘stuck with him’. But his mother gives him comfort, saying that while Claire was smarter, he was always more sociable, always caring for others over him and always being so emotional, and convincing him to go back to his friends to right his wrong, in which he saves Red Arrow, Kid Flash and Crush from drowning.

Now, we’re finally at a point where we can get into his redemption, the most keypoint of a good character’s redemption at #38. And what we get? Roundhouse gives a speech about how people make mistakes and he makes his, but he wants to do good. And once the team finally beats the Other, Robin tells him that he doesn’t need to apologize. And the issues after, we never see Roundhouse do anything to try and redeem himself.

These issues should at least be partially dedicated to Roundhouse trying to make up for what he did, but instead, things go back to normal as though they never happened. This is a ridiculous failure on the part of the writers, as it robs that last part of development right from Roundhouse and leaves that sour taste in the mouth of fans who want to see this character who did a horrible thing make up for it.

Like, Roundhouse's character isn't complicated. He's a goofball that was forced into his powers at the cost of his sister, and so while he wants to do good, he's still unsure on if he should be a hero because he’s insecure as all hell and constantly makes errors. He’s an average kid that collects Supreme merch, plays Fortnite and binges anime. He tries, but he messes up, perhaps because he's not a natural hero and shouldn’t be. And as we saw, his emotions got the better of him, the grief over his sister’s death, the person he was the closest to all of his life, and he took it out on the closest face he could attach the incident to, further justified by Robin’s prison and brainwashing.

To have potential development for him trying to redeem himself in the face of those who may not trust him anymore reduced to one sappy speech and a "You don't need to apologize, we have all done bad things(not true)" is just a shame. And I get why they did it, because they wanted focus on the Djinn War and Robin's collapse, not on this side character, but you've written yourself in a position where things can't go back to normal and yet they wrote it like they could, with a snap. And now you make Roundhouse look like he doesn’t actually care for what happened, nor the team does because everyone’s acting buddy buddy with him again.

There have been examples of bad writing in this Teen Titans run from Glass, most specifically being the characterization of Robin, but also Emiko and Wallace, but the flubbing of Roundhouse’s character development is also a big point of it for me as well, because I came to enjoy the character reading through, but you completely cut short his redemption, leaving out arguably the most major part of one’s development.

And I had even thought that Roundhouse was going to die in #41, based on the solicitation for it reading: “But victory comes at a terrible cost — because one of the Teen Titans won’t be making it back!“

I’d be sad to see Roundhouse go, but his death/entrapment here, at the finale of the Djinn War, would at least be something redeeming, or an end to his character development. He was the one who trapped Djinn, and willing to do anything he can to save her and bring her back, he ultimately sacrifices himself for it to defeat Elias. This would fit his character, as he’s always felt guilty over being the one to survive the accident that gave him his powers over Claire and here, he’d be able to put them to use when he rights his wrong.

And while I can’t say I’m disappointed that Roundhouse didn’t die, it would’ve at least been something, instead of what we got.

2. Inconsistency

This one isn’t nearly as long as the other, or as convoluted, but there’s inconsistency with the character, and it comes down to Glass leaving the project and Thompson taking over. Say what you will about Glass, but I can believe that he had a vision in mind for what Roundhouse’s character was, and he never quite broke it while writing. But now, Robbie Thompson has taken over, And we are getting new flashes of Roundhouse.

Roundhouse is now making references, to TMNT, to Supernatural, to whatever he can. Which is fine, ok, he’s a nerd. But when we get further in, suddenly, Roundhouse is the one that trusts Robin the most. Which is ridiculous. He gets told that Robin killed Brother Blood, and yet out of everyone, HE’S the one who doubts it, and then feels betrayed when it turns out it’s true. If anything, he should feel like he was in the right for believing Robin to be bad. He says Robin’s ruined the Teen Titans, which was already ruined when they broke up and when Roundhouse said that he himself ruined the team. Like, are you serious? Robin crossed a line, but as others have said, he’s just being hypocritical.

And him giving these speeches about being good just doesn’t work with the above mentioned, being a proper redemption to his story, as opposed to just skipping over that part of the story. What has he actually done to make up for what he did, besides help the team? Nothing, and that’s unforgivable. He talks about wanting to make up for things, but he never actually does.

And that’s that. I doubt many people will read this, but this is just my two cents on how the writers have ultimately failed Roundhouse’s development, and likely cemented him as someone that most fans will dislike for a long time, if not forever, because of it.

[angelofbenignmalevolence]

Sealed with a Kiss

TITLE: Sealed with a Kiss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Oneshot AUTHOR: malignedangel/angelofbenignmalevolence PROMPT:  Gordon/Lady Penelope – Pirate/Mermaid AU prompt submitted by @darkestwolfx​ for International Rescue & Relief which is being overseen by @gumnut-logic​. Also @agentfreelancer1​ might enjoy this as well :D

RATING: T

WORD COUNT: 3,573 words Story Notes: This is my first foray into writing fanfiction in awhile so I may be a little rusty. I have used this prompt as a springboard, but I have taken the term “merperson” and applied it quite loosely. And since there was little consensus on the exact terms of the selkie mythology in my research, I have been a little creative with the application of that as well. This is my first foray into writing TAG fanfiction and I’m not entirely sure I didn’t bite off more than I could chew starting with Gordon and Penelope lol. Hopefully this still makes you smile! It turned out a little longer than I expected, so I do apologize for that as well!

~@~

~@~

“Hey Gordon, you coming?”

Gordon stood atop a juncture of three rocks near the ocean shore, his hand on his sandy hair as he pursed his lips in thought. He could have sworn he left it here. He looked over to where the eldest of his brothers stood at the shoreline holding his sleek black coat in his hand. Gordon smiled at him. There was no need to worry him just yet.

“Nah,” Gordon said flippantly. “I’m just going to hang around on the shore for a while. I’ve got a few hours left before I need to be home yet.” Scott’s brow furrowed in the way that it always did when he worried. “Just go. I can handle walking around on the shore by myself. I’m a big boy.” Scott looked at the sun hanging low in the sky. Scott sighed but relented.

“Alright Gordon,” he said. “But you need to be off shore by 10, no excuses, alright?” he said. Gordon waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah, no worries!” Gordon said. “Now stop being a worrywart and go enjoy yourself. You’ve got six hours left in your day of freedom. Don’t spend them worrying about me.” He made a shooing motion which smoothed the frown away from his brother’s features.

“10 o’clock, Gordon,” he said. He fluffed out the coat in his arms and pulled it over himself, stepping into the surf. Gordon watched as the coat enfolded his brother’s form, morphing it into his sleek seal shape. Scott moved a bit more into the surf before looking back at his brother one more time. Gordon laughed and made a shooing motion. Scott dove into the waves and Gordon waited until he was sure his brother had swum off before he let out a deep sigh. Six hours until midnight meant that he had four to find his coat before Scott would go into smother-brother mode.

He began to circle the rocks that he had been standing on, looking for where he had stashed his own seal coat, scratching his head as his search yielded nothing. He frowned. He had buried his coat near the rocks for the express point and purpose of not losing the thing and the strategy had worked literally every other time he had come on shore. He scanned the shoreline. Maybe he had buried it under a different set of rocks? But no…there was the rickety staircase that had been abandoned for years. It had to be here.

He began to widen his circle, his toes digging into the sand in the hopes that he would feel the sleek fur against his toes. The wider his circle got, the more worried he became. What if he couldn’t find it? Worse, what if someone had taken it? By selkie law he’d be bound to that person until he could gain his coat back. His brothers had warned him about it and scolded him when he had been too careless with his seal coat. Scott had always had to be so incredibly careful and for once, just once as his worry mounted, he wished he had been as careful as his brother.

He moved around another large rock outcropping and stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting on the beach was a woman, a human woman. He couldn’t help but notice that she was stunning in the light of the setting sun. The other thing he couldn’t help but notice was that she sat with her arms cradling a seal coat.

His seal coat.

Gordon ducked back behind the rocks for a moment to consider his next strategy. He supposed that it would be too much to ask the universe for the young woman to not know the significance of the coat she held in her arms. He let out a breath. Well, he had really put his foot in it this time. He was not ready to give up the sea or the freedom that it offered him, unlike Virgil who had given up his seal coat to a human woman that he had fallen in love with or John who had given his coat to an old sea dog that had promised to teach him the stars and return the coat when John wanted to return to the sea. The sea was everything to him. Perhaps if he appealed to her emotions…

“You know, I saw you earlier. Hiding behind that rock doesn’t make you any less obvious.”  The voice was full of good breeding and sophistication. He came around the rocks again with an embarrassed laugh, running his hands through his sandy hair once more.

“Yeah, sorry about that…I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was looking for something,” Gordon said. “Actually, I found it, too.” The young woman raised an eyebrow expectantly. Gordon cleared his throat. “The seal coat…it’s…mine.” He hesitated as he answered, wondering if perhaps this was the wrong way of gaining back his seal coat. The young woman frowned and tightened her arms around the coat.

“I’ve heard lots of stories of men who comb the beach looking for seal coats to bring home an unwitting bride,” she said. Gordon laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation on his part.

“Yeah, believe me, my brother Alan had a pretty close call with that,” he said. The young woman frowned.

“Forcing young women into marriages isn’t funny,” she said, as if she knew from experience. “And I’m going to make sure that this seal coat goes back to the young woman it belongs to.” Gordon’s eyes widened as he realized they were talking about Gordon being the one looking for a bride. He threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh no,” he said as his fit of giggles died down. “You misunderstand me. I’m a selkie. My brother too obviously. All of them. I have several.” He felt the words tumbling out in an awkward rush. Even angry, the woman was very pretty, and he couldn’t help his laughter at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. “Let me start over. My name is Gordon and the seal coat you are holding is mine. As in, I use it to take my seal form.” The young woman frowned in thought as she considered him before loosening her grip on the seal coat, her anger dissipating quickly into something more melancholy.

“Well…this is an unexpected turn of events,” she said. Gordon placed his hands on his hips with a slight smile on his face.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he said, hoping to lighten her mood. She shook her head and set the seal coat aside, as if she no longer wanted anything to do with it.

“I’m sorry if I sound disappointed,” she said, her sincerity obvious. “I had been hoping that the coat belonged to a seal maiden. I was protecting it so she wouldn’t be forced into marriage with a human if that wasn’t what she wanted. I never intended to keep the coat for myself. I was just…looking for a friend, I suppose.” Gordon frowned slightly and approached, sitting down on the other side of the coat as Penelope adjusted her skirts.

“Well, just because I’m not a seal girl doesn’t mean we still can’t be friends,” he said. She looked over at him.

“No,” she said after several moments where she looked at him, as if trying to figure out his angle. “I suppose it doesn’t.” Gordon smiled.

“Though, you do have me at a slight disadvantage. I’ll have to start calling you the shore maiden if you don’t give me your name,” he said with a wink. The corner of her lips quirked in a smile.

“I’ve been called worse,” she said. “But my name is Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.” Gordon smiled and reached for the hand nearest him, bringing the back of it to his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Penelope,” he said. Penelope took back her hand and brushed some hair away from her face.

“I have to admit,” she said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever met a selkie in person,” she said. Gordon leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky above the waves.

“Yeah,” he said. “That doesn’t surprise me. We tend to keep mostly to ourselves. Partially because of the coat thing but also because most humans forget us pretty quickly.” Penelope turned to look at him, intrigued.

“Seems like someone like you would be pretty hard to forget,” she said. Gordon laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, as I’m sure you meant it,” he said, enjoying the blush that rose to her cheeks and thinking that it only made her look prettier. “But yeah…we can’t come on shore very often. It’s part of the whole merfolk life thing.” Penelope frowned.

“That sounds lonely,” she said. Gordon shrugged.

“I mean…it could be worse. I could be one of the finfolk and that would mean I couldn’t come on land at all. That…might suck a little more.” Penelope laughed.

“I can see where that might be a bit more inconvenient for forming friendships,” she said. He nodded.

“Yeah. Besides, seal guys are much cooler than mermen,” he said with a wink, earning another laugh from her. He smiled and let the moment settle before he cleared his throat. “So tell me a little more about yourself.”

“I’m the daughter of Lord Creighton-Ward. And I’m expected to marry well,” she said. Gordon made a face.

“Sounds like an exciting future ahead.” The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was nearly palpable. “If it’s wrong to make a seal girl marry if she’s not in love, it seems to me that a human girl should be given the same…I don’t know…courtesy?”

“One would think,” she said, sliding her feet out of her shoes and letting her toes dip into the sand. Gordon could see the distance in her eyes as she thought ahead to an uncertain future. He knew he had to do something to bring her back from wherever it was she was going in her mind, especially if it had the power to erase the smile from her features.

“What would you want for your future if it was in your hands?” he asked, hoping the suddenness and the personal nature of the question would shock her back to reality. He knew his plan worked when Penelope looked at him, an amused smile lighting up her features.

“You don’t waste any time getting to the point, hmm?” she asked. Gordon shrugged, inwardly celebrating his personal win.

“There’s too little time to waste on small talk, what with the whole ‘can only go on shore so often’ thing,” he said with a grin. “So come on, tell your new friend what you want for your future. I may not be a magic fish, but I know a guy.” He winked at her, causing her to shake her head and look out at the water.

“Hmm…if I could have anything I wanted for my life? I’d like to do something to help those in need. The voices of those less fortunate than I are not often heard. I’d like to be in a position where I would be free to use my voice to help make things better, perhaps be able to actively make the world a better place.” Gordon looked at her. He probably couldn’t say what answer he expected to hear from her if he had been asked, but whatever it was he had expected, it wasn’t that answer. His smile softened into one of admiration. She was such a purely good person. He would consider himself honored to count her among his friends.

“So what’s stopping you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the both of them with her pronouncement. Penelope shrugged.

“Unfortunately, in this day and age, women’s voices aren’t nearly as loud as men’s voices,” she said. Gordon shrugged.

“So make them listen. If anyone can do it, it’s you. I believe in you. You have the freedom to rewrite your future,” he said. “And I’ll be rooting for you. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you, I’m happy to kelp in any way I can.” He grinned at his own joke and Penelope arched an eyebrow, holding the expression for only a moment before allowing herself to laugh.

“That was a terrible joke, Gordon,” she said. He grinned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think that my jokes be the start of a beautiful friendship between the two of us,” he said with a wink.

“I suppose you think they will seal the deal?” she asked, as if resigned that the joke was going to come out one way or the other, and she might as well beat him to the punch. Gordon’s eyes lit up.

“Say, that was pretty quick,” he said. “I think even my brothers might have approved of that. I’m just mad I didn’t get there first.” Penelope smoothed her skirt with a smile.

“Will you tell me about your brothers?” she asked. He nodded and started to regale her with tales of their exploits in the open ocean and some of the more humorous stories. He didn’t notice as the sun set below the horizon and night crept over them, the hour growing later and later.

“And then of course, there’s Alan. He’s the baby of the family. And like I said, he was the one that had a close call with his seal coat. He-” Gordon began, but a grumpy seal cry cut him off, causing both Gordon and Penelope to jump. Perched on a rock was a very annoyed looking black seal. Penelope looked at Gordon.

“One of your brothers, I take it?” Gordon put a hand on the back of his head, his cheeks pinkening. It sure was one of his brothers; a very upset eldest brother who looked like he was about ready to drown Gordon in the surf for forgetting about the time. He waved awkwardly at the seal.

“Oh hey, Scott. That time already?” he asked. The seal vocalized angrily. Gordon laughed and turned back to his new friend. “I suppose this means that my time is up. I’ve got to head back into the water.” He got up and offered a hand to Penelope to help her to her feet. Once both of them were standing, he picked up his seal coat and shook off the sand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Penelope,” he said. “And I hope to see you again when I come back on shore.” Penelope nodded.

“You’d better. You owe me a story,” she said. She moved closer to him as he batted away the sand from his seal coat. She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek before she slid on her shoes and started to head up the beach once more. Gordon placed a hand over his cheek and smiled.

“I do indeed,” he muttered to himself. The moment was interrupted as the seal behind him barked at him and he shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, Scott. Keep your coat on,” he said, sliding into his seal fur and following his brother back into the surf with one last look up the beach at Penelope’s retreating form.

~@~

Gordon lay on one of the rocks that jut from beneath the ocean outside Tracy cove, sunning himself as he watched the sky. His seal coat was tucked safely beneath him. His thoughts strayed back to Penelope and the few hours they had spent together on the beach only a few weeks ago. He doubted he would ever see the feisty blonde again, but he knew that he could never forget her. She had given him his freedom despite obviously wanting to keep him by her side. And he had almost considered staying with her, but the ocean had a siren’s call all its own. No matter how much Penelope had drawn him towards land with her own siren’s call, they had both known that he would never have been able to drown out the call of the sea.

He let out a deep sigh. Man, sometimes the extended time between their visits to shore sucked hardcore. He already had begun to miss the easy companionship with his human friend. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the ocean: the waves lapping against the rocks, the call of the sea birds that flew and dived for their meals, the creaking of a boat as it rocked on the….

Wait a second. Gordon sat bolt upright. Boats never came this close to the cove where he and his brothers had made their home. The sailors that ventured out this far into the ocean called the place Hullshatter Cove for a reason. He looked out over the ocean and sure enough, a boat was making its way in the direction of the cove. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he hadn’t gone sea mad, but the boat remained where it was. He got to his feet, gathering up his coat and frowning. He had to keep the boat from coming into the cove somehow.

He pulled his coat over his body, feeling the transformation as he leapt into the water. His seal body cut through the water swiftly and in no time at all, he was at the side of the boat. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do to stop them, but he had to try. He looked up to consider his next move when a lifeboat dropped, the craft hitting the water so close to his head that if his reflex to dive hadn’t been quite so quick, he would have been seeing stars. His head surfaced again as he stared at the small craft. Gordon wasn’t one to look a gift horse, or boat for that matter, in the mouth. He jumped into the lifeboat, letting out a series of barks to warn the sailors of the impending danger.

Underneath him the small boat lurched as it began to be hoisted up on deck. Gordon realized that he may not have thought this plan entirely through, but there was no turning back now. He allowed himself to be hoisted to ship level, where he jumped onto the deck and barked at anyone who came near him, trying desperately to call their attention to the dangers that awaited them as they floated closer to the island.

“Now is that any way to behave?” Gordon froze, his head whipping around. He knew that voice. There stood Penelope. Gone were the skirts and trappings of high society. Instead she wore trousers and a long captain’s coat, and Gordon couldn’t deny that the look somehow suited the young woman more than the skirts ever would. She looked comfortable and happy in a way she hadn’t when last he saw her. “You can close your mouth, Gordon,” she said. He snapped his jaw shut, having been unaware of when it had dropped open. He began to shed his coat, taking human form there on the deck of the ship and looking at her with wide eyes.

“Penelope? But…how…why…?” Gordon wasn’t sure what question he wanted to ask first. Penelope shook her head.

“Why? For you,  of course,” she said. Gordon’s expression went from puzzled to completely bewildered.

“Me?”

“Yes,” she said. “You longed for the freedom of the sea, and I decided that I wanted a taste of that for myself. So I pulled a few strings and got myself a letter of marque to sail the sea. I was hoping I would find you again.” Gordon’s heart melted. She had done all of this…for him?

“Penelope…I…don’t know what to say…” Penelope waved a hand dismissively.

“The only thing that you have to say is that you are going to give me the full story about your brother and his near marriage miss. You said that you couldn’t come on shore again for quite some time and I wasn’t willing to wait that long. So if you couldn’t come on shore, I would come to the sea,” she said. Gordon stood frozen for a moment as he processed her words. Never before in collective selkie memory had a human made the attempt to figure out a loophole  to remain close to a selkie companion on their terms. He laughed, happy tears threatening to make their way to his eyes. He moved forward to her and wrapped her in his arms, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you, Penelope…thank you so much…this means the world to me…and I promise…I’ll tell you all the stories you want…” he said. She smiled up at him, her arms draping around his waist as well.

“Good,” she said. Neither of them moved for several moments, allowing themselves to just be in each other’s company before she pulled back slightly and smiled up at him, moving her hands to his chest. “Now what say you and I go have a bite to eat and you make good on your promise?” Gordon nodded, willing to follow his feisty little captain anywhere, letting her guide him toward the lower decks. He stooped for only a moment to pick up his seal coat before taking her hand.

“Well you see, Alan’s near brush with marriage all started when…”

[thefangirlslair]

Free At Last (A Sasusaku One-Shot Fanfiction) x Purple Love VI

Note: Okay, okay. I know it’s been a while. I’ve been busy not being completely mental because of some stuff, and then this corona virus comes up and just messes up with my head furthermore. Ugh! Well, I hope you’re all safe and doing well. And of course, enjoy Sakura Day! It is our queen’s birthday, and I know i’ll never forgive myself if i don’t participate on her special day. So i hope you appreciate this one because i took a break from angst and tried a light and fluffy one. I am sO NERVOUS OMG thanks so much to everyone who keeps on reading these fics i have. Thank u thank u!!!

PS. This is also up on my ffnet! Let me know your thoughts! Again, Happy Birthday Uchiha Sakura!!!!!!!!!! MY QUEEN I LOB U

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Excerpt:  This might be her second birthday since he knew her, first as her boyfriend, but he feels like he’s known her for a long time. He wants to be there on her birthday every year, forever, as long as she’ll have him.

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SasuSaku Pairing (2,578 words)

A Poor Attempt at Writing Fics

Sasusaku Edition XXV

Free At Last

Not even grainy resolutions of webcam cameras and shitty internet connections can ever hide her wide-blown grin. May it be over a monitor, your smartphone or in person, Haruno Sakura’s smile will always be as beautiful as its owner. And it’s even much brighter now that her team is singing her happy birthday through her computer screen.

Boisterous laughter followed after all the singing because was that Lee-san who croaked that last note?

“That was awful, Eyebrows!”, laughed Naruto, some dramatic tears leaking from the corners of his happy blue eyes and his tongue slipping the familiar nickname outside work. “Was that you or you have a pet frog?” The addressed man cannot be seen beyond his webcam because he was busy lying under his desk because Sakura-san! I have failed to sing the best happy birthday song! Shame on me!

Almost choking on her drink, Tenten interrupted, “Hey Naruto, we’re still technically at work even though we’re working from home. Stop with the nicknames until later!”

“C’mon, buns! It’s not as if Boss is here to murder us with his glare! And it’s just another 10 minutes before our shift ends; we need to celebrate Sakura-chan's birthday at least!”, the blond whined as an answer.

“Aww, thanks so much guys!”, Sakura smiled. “Naruto, stop teasing Lee-san. And listen to Tenten, we still need to be professional while we’re still at work. I wish we are together at the office though! I would’ve loved to celebrate with you all, too.”

Another blue-eyed, blonde person answered. “Ugh, tell me about it. I’d rather be at the office right now and listen to Naruto’s obnoxious voice than be with a lazy ass and be bored out of my mind like someone over here..” Ino’s annoyed face and an even more annoyed voice rang through their earphones and speakers, noting the emphasis on some words about her boyfriend who rolled his eyes. In the background, you can hear Tenten’s Language!

They can all see Shikamaru, the boyfriend, who simply smirked, looked sideways at his workmate/girlfriend and lazily drawled, “You love this lazy ass.”

Series of ‘OHHHHHH’ can be heard from Kiba, Tenten and Naruto while Lee choked some more and laid again under his desk. Sakura just laughed at her best friend’s face because Ino was trying so hard not to blush that she covered her almost-red face and slapped Shikamaru’s arm at reach. Sakura even heard the man chuckled under his breath.

“Shika, you smooth fucker,” Kiba teased. “Teach us your ways!”

Tenten growled, “Inuzuka, if you don’t shut the fuck u-”

“Weren’t you the one who said to remain professional and mind our language while at work, Tenten-san?”, Lee’s head came up to peek onto the camera and asked his innocent question. He ducked again when the brunette’s eyes flashed for a second and escaped before she unleashes her rage on him.

Sakura’s laughter was light and happy, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. These people’s faces on her screen belong to not just her team at work but her friends. Her second family. Or maybe third? she thought.

They spend more than 40 hours a week together whether it be stressing over clients at work, drinking coffee at the pantry, pizza parlor visits after shift, and ice creams every payday. And now that she realized that it has been two long months since they worked from home, now at their last day of quarantine, let alone on her birthday, she misses them. Terribly so.

“I miss you guys. Really,” she said, her voice a bit lower than usual, which means she’s serious. Her friends saw it and immediately stopped their bickering. “I didn't have anyone before until Naruto and Ino came along. Then came Tenten, then Shikamaru... until Kiba and then lastly, Lee-san. It’s been 10 years since my first celebration with the blonds, but I feel like I’ve been celebrating it with all 7 of you ever since.” She smiled again, “Thank you for always being with me on my day.”

A few moments passed and finally, a chorus of incomprehensible words were heard through Sakura’s speakers because they all reacted at the same time:

“Sakura-chaaan! Don’t be sad! I’ll be sad too!”

“Cut... hik... cut the drama f-forehead! I d-.. I don’t want it!... hik...”

“Ah... now you want me to fall for you now, huh? Stop, damn it Sakura..”

“Girl, don’t touch my fucking heart like that. You already know we got you always.”

“SAKURA-SAAAAAAAAAN!!!”

Sakura watched it all with glowing eyes and a full heart. She looked one by one on their blurry little faces and she felt love just seep through her pores. She’s finally seeing them next week since the quarantine is finally over and there will be no need to hide from the pandemic that affected the rest of the world.

They’re still busy reeling over Sakura’s mini birthday speech and the rosette is overwhelmed with emotions when they heard Shikamaru asked, “Seven?”

“Huh?”, Sakura confusedly asked back.

“We’re only six here, excluding you, but you said ‘all 7 of you’ earlier.”

All eyes turned to her and she felt nervous. Crap, I slipped!

“Oh,” she started, nervously added an awkward laugh. “I meant six! I might be more tired than usual then. We had to talk to a lot of clients today anyway, right?”

She knew she didn’t convince Shikamaru and the rest of her friends, so she thanked all the deities she knew when her phone rang and Kakashi’s name flashed on her screen. She took it as an opportunity to escape more questions from them and so she said, “I gotta take this call, it’s my old high school teacher.”

She muted their audio of their conference call and opened the window of her emails instead to hide her screen and chat box. Sakura went to the balcony to answer the call.

Little did she know that she forgot to turn off her camera.

--

“Did you notice she was acting weird?”

“She absolutely did, right? She looked nervous earlier. Do you know something about this, Naruto?”

“No! She tells us everything but for the past few months, she’s been a little secretive, I think. It also doesn’t help that we’ve been in quarantine for 2 months! Is she still my best friend, Ino-chan?”

“First of all, I am her best friend and not you. And second, I agree. Ugh, this Forehead is making my head hurt!”

“Don’t judge Sakura-san! She’s a good friend! If she wants to tell us something, she will!”

“I don’t care about her secret or whatever, all I want to know where her house is because look at her room. So fucking huge!”

“That’s not her house, Kiba. Forehead said she’s staying at her mom’s friend because she’s alone at her apartment.”

“Yeah, Sakura-chan's room is much brighter and full of flowers! The room they gave her now is so boring, look! It’s either black or gray!”

“I wouldn’t mind. The size of that room is almost as big as my entire apartment. That bed looks something I want to break with Neji.”

“Tenten-san!! Control yourself!!!”

“Y’all are so noisy even in chat.”

“Shut up, ponytail!”

A movement from Sakura’s camera caught everyone’s attention. Her computer is located at the corner of the room so they could see a part of the queen size bed and has a direct view of the bedroom door. The knob turned and someone entered the room.

“WHO’S THAT?!!!”

“SOMEONE ENTERED SAKURA-SAN'S ROOM!!”

“Is that her mom’s friend?”

“Stop panicking idiots!”

“THEY BETTER LEAVE SAKURA-CHAN ALONE!!!”

“Wait...”

“Is that....?”

“OHMYFGOFDD”

“IS THAT BOSS TEME???!”

“Holy shit..”

“Damn he’s so fucking hot in sweatpants...”

“Why is he there??????”

“UCHIHA-SAN IS IN SAKURA-SAN'S ROOM!!!!!”

“I see... this could be why Sakura said 7.”

“NOOOO! THIS CAN’T BE! SAKURA-CHAN WON’T DATE THAT ASSHOLE! SHE CAN’T!!”

Stood inside the room is no other than their young CEO, Uchiha Sasuke, dressed in casual gray sweatpants and thin white t-shirt. If not because of his wild black hair and intimidating aura, they wouldn’t even know it’s him. They have always seen him in crisp suits and perfect posture, maybe once in a bomber jacket and ripped jeans, but this is the first time they’ve seen him in comfortable clothes with his usual stiff shoulders a bit relaxed and his hands casually tucked in his pockets.

Another movement from the other corner of the room, and Sakura came into view. They didn’t know she was only wearing a big shirt that barely covered her thighs, and the chat room exploded again.

“Sakura’s so hot, damn..”

“HOY DOG-BREATH, LOOK AWAY!!! STOP HOUNDING SAKURA-CHAN!!”

“YAAAS GET THAT ASS GIRL!!”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! FOREHEAD IS BANGING OUR BOSS! THAT’S SO HOT”

They watched in awe when the two met in the middle of the room and Sakura tiptoed and wrapped her arms around Sasuke’s neck. Their boss leaned down and held her hips, his face hidden within her pink locks.

The scene didn’t have any audio for their mini audience but even without it, they know the two are speaking in whispers, with Sakura’s head nodding and Sasuke’s hands running over her waist and back as indications. They felt like intruders and most of them almost blushed because of the affection and intimacy, excluding one who definitely passed out under his desk, so they decided to leave the two.

“Let’s leave them alone now, things might get pretty hot. I don’t wanna see my best friend shagging my boss, no matter how proud I am of her.”

“INO-CHAN! WE GOTTA HELP SAKURA-CHAN ESCAPE! WHAT IF HE’S HOLDING HER HOSTAGE???”

“Idiot..”

“Sakura can take me hostage any time though..”

“Wait, I just want to see Boss Uchiha topless before we go!”

--

Sasuke pulled away for a bit to look at Sakura, his birthday girl, and poked her forehead with his two fingers. His two arms wrapped around her waist again after the gesture, “Are you done for today?”

She nodded in affirmative as her hands roam around his shoulders and looped around his neck, “I almost slipped earlier though. They almost knew I have a b-..boyf-”

He smirked. They have been secretly dating for almost 4 months now but she still blushes more than usual when she tries to address him as her boyfriend. He remembered the time he introduced her to his parents as his girlfriend and she was redder than his favorite fruit the entire dinner. That was fun.

She’s his employee, he knows. Sakura���s been working for his company for more than a year now and ever since he laid his eyes on her and saw her potential, wit and charm—he knows she’s his endgame.

It’s been a long pursuit for him, being her boss and all, and her righteous perspective about everything. So when she finally gave in to her own feelings and decided to say yes to being his, he decided to never let Haruno Sakura go. Even if she decides to fight tooth and nail for her freedom from him, he will do the same to keep her. Maybe not as an employee, because that would mean he will be free to take her on lunch dates, but as his lover.

I like that, he thought. Lover.

Sasuke peered at her blushing face, her emerald eyes downcast because of embarassment, her enticing full pink lips on display that she keeps on licking and biting. Sasuke’s eyes twitched because of the sight.

“Annoying,” he almost growled under his breath. Is she aware of her effect on him?

Before she could even ask, Sasuke ducked his head down to press his mouth on hers. His hand went to the back of her head to tilt it a little upwards so he could taste deeper and he was rewarded by the opening of her mouth and the quiet moan that he drank greedily from her.

As much as he wants to call it a night and just bury himself with her and in her, she hasn’t eaten yet because his hard-headed and annoying employee still worked at home on her birthday. He baked a strawberry cake downstairs while she thought he’s busy working with investors on his office. He spent the entire day in his kitchen Facetiming with his mother to guide his baking. He’s never seen his mother so ecstatic because of him.

He came back to his senses when he felt slightly cold hands under his shirt and he fought the urge to throw her onto the bed they have been occupying for the past 2 months of quarantine and just ravish her all night. Sasuke moved both his hands and held her face as he savored more of her lips by a few flicks of his tongue before he gently pulled away.

This might be her second birthday since he knew her, first as her boyfriend, but he feels like he’s known her for a long time. He wants to be there on her birthday every year, forever, as long as she’ll have him. “Happy birthday,” he simply said, tenderly looking at her gorgeous face.

Her smile was blinding and her green irises glimmer against the setting sun. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura softly answered. “I love you so much.”

He pecked her lips again, lingering a bit more, and murmured against her mouth. “Love you.” He felt her smile, and he smiled back.

A small blink from the corner of his eyes got his attention and he noticed the tops of her laptop’s screen with a little light, indicating that the camera is on. Sasuke turned to Sakura, “Go downstairs and wait for me. Let’s eat dinner. I’ll just take a shower.”

Sakura nodded and happily skipped across the room and slipped outside the bedroom to wait for him downstairs. Sasuke stood for a moment looking at the door and slowly walked toward his, their, dresser. He took off his t-shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor. He took a deep breath and finally approached Sakura’s computer on the side.

He clicked the program that runs the conference call and was greeted by her team’s shocked faces. He saw one window where Rock Lee was supposed to be but he didn’t see anyone aside from the crooked angle of the camera and are those his feet under the table? He scoffed inwardly. Guess you’ll give up pursuing her now. She’s mine.

He did a lazy sweep of his dark eyes one by one on their faces and remembered them in the future if they decide to blame Sakura for not telling this secret. Of course, they both wanted to show the world that they’re together but they still need to be a little cautious. Yes, they’re her friends and her team, but he’s not gonna be lenient especially when it comes to Sakura.

Sasuke thought the look in his eyes were effective because they all sat a little straighter. His job is now done, and now it’s time to shower so he could celebrate the entire night with Sakura. His spine tingled in anticipation.

He looked directly at the little camera above and gave his signature smirk before he logged out her account and closed Sakura’s laptop. He stretched like a feline and his grin went wider as he stripped for his shower.

Let’s just say it was an interesting first day back at the office the following Monday.

--

~fin~

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Babes in Chuckletown

OHO BOY, am I angry.

I was in the middle of a very long chapter in my fanfic when my computer randomly decided to restart, costing me NOT ONLY a very long chapter, but the ENTIRE THIRTEEN-CHAPTER DOCUMENT. I thank god that I uploaded it all to AO3 up until the thirteenth chapter (which is going to be a pain the ass to rewrite), but now I have to go in and copy-paste, re-bold and re-italicize everything.

So that’s how my Halloween is going. Excuse me while I cry.

Anyway. Please enjoy this one-shot I’m making up on the fly about Arthur having no choice but bringing his small child to Ha-Ha’s because he has nobody to watch her. Me being in an angry mood helps me to channel Hoyt’s ... Hoytish-ness. Hoyt was definitely an asshole in the movie, but I feel like the lines “I like you, Arthur” and “I’m trying to help you” flew under the radar in light of his dickishness.

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, I just have no conceivable idea where this would logically fit into my fanfiction, so I gift it here. I’ll let this be a birthday present for the incredible @funsizedshrimp, since they seem to love my Carrie Fleck as much as I do and I absolutely should return the favor for all the lovely art they gift to me. I love you lots, you wonderful person you.

__________________                ______________               __________________

“Hey Peanut, can you do me a favor?”

Arthur’s voice was soft, nearly indecipherable. The pudgy hand that had been grasping at his shirt collar suddenly pushed against him, exerting the energy to be able to lift her head up.

One bleary eye opened to look at him. Her cheek was rosy from her uneasy resting spot on his collarbone. Neither the time nor the place allowed for such coddling, but he continued to rock her on his hip uneasily.

“Mm?” she questioned.

“Can you put a hand over your ear?” he asked, softer still. “Daddy has to talk to someone and it might be a little loud. Not suitable for a baby’s ears.”

Although Carrie grumbled something that only he could decipher as “Not a baby,” she conceded. The sharp bone in her ear pressing against his collarbone hurt, but in the magical age where she began repeating every colorful phrase she heard from the television, he couldn’t risk anything.

Taking in a wavering breath, clutching the bag in his hand tighter, Arthur opened his boss’ door.

“Oh, how fucking nice of you to ... what the fuck is this?”

Hoyt looked up from his stack of documents -- chiefly the words complaint, absence, and Carnival bore into his head from a yellow slip on his desk -- to see Ha Ha’s resident hooky flinch in protest. What he first thought was an overgrown ragdoll, he realized with some incredulity was a toddler, pressing its head into Arthur’s neck.

“You brought a fucking kid into my shop?” he asked, voice rising.

“Hoyt ... please --”

“Please what? This should be good.”

It gave him no pleasure to watch Arthur be so hopelessly awkward, dropping the paper bag in a vain attempt to hike the kid further up on his person. He knew the guy was going through a rough patch with the wife. That it happened on Hoyt’s dime, though, made him hard to sympathize with.

Fumbling for something to do besides stand uncomfortably and rock his daughter into a sleep that she couldn’t attain, Arthur sat in the green chair across from Hoyt’s desk. He positioned Carrie to be able to rest easier in his lap. At a groggy whimper, his hand instinctively pressed against her arm, hoping it would keep her semi-warm. He didn’t know why Hoyt kept the AC on at all hours of the day.

“Well aren’t you a real mother hen,” Hoyt observed, devoid of anything Arthur could recognize as a positive emotion. “What’s it doing here?”

“I ... I had no other options,” he blurted out. “I can’t afford another day off work, but I have nobody to watch her.”

“Do I look like I’m runnin’ a charity ward, Arthur?” Upon further thought, “You didn’t bring her through the locker room, did you?”

“Nobody else is here,” he said quickly, realizing how bad that might’ve sounded once it reached his own ears. “And I made her close her eyes.”

Two scraggly grey eyebrows rose in vague surprise.

“Your mistake, not mine.”

Arthur felt the tips of his ears burn, unsure if he guessed correctly what Hoyt was referring to. Carrie may have been a surprise, but she was no mistake.

“How are you supposed to keep track of the kid on assignment?” Hoyt questioned, flitting through the ever-expanding pile of papers on his desk. “You’re booked for Amusement Mile today. That’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

Awkwardly, Arthur cleared his throat, feeling unable to meet Hoyt’s disbelieving eyes. His fingers rubbed Carrie’s arm up and down. She burrowed further into the crook of his neck, keeping her hand dutifully over her ear as promised. Her face was hidden from view by a crop of blonde hair -- the little veil he had left that kept work and home as two separate realities.

“I - I, um ...” A giggle got caught in his throat, as thick as a billiard ball. He forced it down. “I was wondering if I could keep her here. Just ... just for --”

“What?”

“Just for today, a -- and tomorrow, I’ll be sure --”

“Are you stupid?” Hoyt cuts in, and Arthur’s hand moves from his daughter’s arm to the small hand over her ear like a reflex. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“W -- well, Randall brought in his kid a few w -- weeks ago ... I thought maybe ...”

“Randall’s kid is twelve already, not three.” Hoyt heard a soft mutter of “she’ll be five soon,” as if it would sway the argument in Arthur’s court at all. “What the hell are you thinking in that fucked-up head? No relatives, no friends?”

“Nobody,” he said, and it surprised Hoyt that he hadn’t seen Arthur ... quite so sad before. He’d been sad, sure, but not pitiful. He couldn’t be more pitiful if he was dressed as Carnival doing this begging. “My -- my wife just left, I don’t know where she is. My in-laws are on vacation in Burbank and my mom is in the hospital. The neighbors won’t take her and -- and the preschool is closed ‘cause of a rat infestation. Hoyt, I’m ... I’m begging you.”

Something about the sight was so pitiful, so unfunny in his desperation, that Hoyt narrowly refrained from cutting back with My mistake for thinking you’d have friends.

“Mmf, Daddy,” the source of the frustration croaked. “My arm hurts. Can I put it down?”

“Yeah, Peanut,” he said quietly. The hand slid out from underneath his warm palm and found its way around his neck once again. A thumb brushed away a few strands of hair from her face, unveiling a curtain for her to view this strange new room.

Hoyt almost let slip a surprised “holy shit” as the kid’s head rose to look around the office, wide-eyed in her wonderment, but he thought better of it. But holy shit, did she look like Arthur, in eyes and face shape at least. Slap on a greasy brown wig and she could’ve been a pint-sized clone.

“A jack in the box,” she said quietly, pointing at the dumb clown statue out of his sight in front of his desk. “Daddy, jack in the box.”

“Yeah, Carrie, I see.”

Hoyt bit his lip, at a loss. It was always harder to turn a kid away when he had a name and a face to set to them. Until then the kid could’ve been a delusion for all he knew, the way Arthur talked about her like there was no god damn tomorrow. Who on this green earth would ever think to --?

Ugh. Fuck.

“You owe me, Arthur. Big time.”

____________________

Nine in the morning rolled around to a relative calm. The kid was, to his relief, quiet and weedy for the most part, like her quiet, weedy father. A long stretch of silence ensued -- half-hour? Two hours? He didn’t fucking know -- where the rhythmic punching of the time cards from the locker room and pen (or crayon) on paper substituted for awkward and mindless conversation he didn’t want to indulge in.

His only indication that she was there at all was the knowledge that his door hadn’t opened since Arthur hurried out to get ready and dropped her in Hoyt’s proverbial lap (had it been a literal instance, he might’ve tossed the kid through the window on reflex), and the occasional kicking of leather sandals and bell bottom pant legs barely visible from his vantage point.

“Hey, don’t get any crayon on my floor,” he warned, wondering internally if she made up for in mischief what she lacked in outward annoyance.

“I won’t,” she replied, too high and cheery for nine in the morning. “I draw pictures to stop Daddy being sad.”

Well isn’t that just fucking lovely. But he had a schedule to amend.

He could send Arthur to the kids’ hospital in Randall’s place -- the kids seemed to really respond to Arthur better ... god, why did Randall have to be such an obnoxious prick of a clown with the kids? It was getting harder and harder to place him--

The rustling of paper and a soft grunt made him look up. Hiding her face from his view, the kid was holding up a drawing of ... colored dots? Big whoop.

She pointed to a bright green one, taking up the center of the page.

“That’s -- that’s my daddy at work,” she explained. He raised a brow. Quite a likeness. “And that’s me, with an ice cream.”

Her little pointer finger trailed to the scribble next to the green -- a flurry of yellow and brown and pink. Was that what she’d spent the last hour on?

“What’s that then?” he asked before he could stop himself, not realizing any words had left his mouth at all until the cap of a chewed blue Bic pen tapped against a blue scribble, neatly tucked away in a folded corner.

“That’s my mommy,” she explained, as casual as though he’d asked for the time. Oh. “She’s taking a break.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say something he might regret in the hours to come. Before coming to the realization that it was not his business nor his time to care, a question flitted through his mind if Arthur had told the kid about her mom at all.

“I got work to do,” he settled. “Read a book or something.”

____________________

Hoyt never thought he’d ever be disappointed to have a knock on the door that wasn’t Arthur.

“C’min,” he said distractedly.

“Hoyt,” Gary said. “Barney needs the key to the storage closet. Forgot his shoes at home.”

“Second time this week,” Hoyt tutted. Standing up, he allowed himself a stretch that popped his back in several satisfying places, and reached for the key under the strip of tape marked STORAGE. “Tell him this had better be the last damn time.”

“I’ll try.”

Their eyes, as though having just materialized in the room, landed on the girl, still lying on the floor but looking up at Gary, saying nothing. Gary’s face softened.

“Oh, hello,” he said amiably. “Is this your daughter, Hoyt?”

Don’t ever say something like that again --

“Nah.” He shook his head and sat back down. “Arthur’s kid.”

A moment of recognition passed where Gary’s eyes lit up like a damn Christmas tree. His smile grew wider.

“So this is the Carrie we’ve heard all about,” he exclaimed, sticking his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fleck.”

At the lack of response, Hoyt looked over the desk. A blonde crop of hair was unmoved, and even quieter than she’d been before.

“Didn’t your daddy teach you not to stare?” Hoyt probed.

“She’s alright, Hoyt,” Gary countered, keeping his eyes on the girl. “She’s still very young.”

No time like now to teach ‘em not to stare

“Thanks, Hoyt,” Gary continued. At the door frame again, he smiled once more at the kid. “It was very nice to meet you, Carrie.”

The door closed. As if cued by the click of the lock, she turned quickly to Hoyt.

“He was small!” she whispered.

“Yeah, and you’re rude.”

“How rude?”

“It’s fuckin’ rude to stare at him ‘cause he’s short,” Hoyt snapped, pulling yet another litany of papers in a barely-together manila folder from an overstuffed desk drawer. “He doesn’t stare at you ‘cause you’re a girl.”

“But that was scary.”

“There’s a lot scarier guys to be on the lookout for, kid.”

“Who?”

Your daddy, for one.

“I don’t wanna be rude,” she said quietly, beginning to stand. She swiped a bit of dust from the knee of her bell bottoms, putting a nagging word in the back of his mind to sweep the office soon. “I wanna be like my daddy. He’s nice.”

He looked at her briefly before returning to his papers again. Crudely and off-tune, he made out that she was attempting to whistle the Andy Griffith theme.

Andy Griffith. Sheriff Barney Fife. God damn you, Gary.

The back of a blonde head was cast in varying shades as she stood in front of the window slats, drawing a little pointer finger over the sharpie-marked letters. MIME. WHITE FACE PAINT

I have no doubt you’ll be exactly like your daddy. Good luck with that.

____________________

Two o’clock gave Hoyt his first opportunity to get a real look at the Fleck girl. That still felt weird to say.

“Here,” he said stiffly, digging into his back pocket to produce two dimes. “Go down the hall ‘til you reach the Pepsi machine and get us two sodas. It’s lunch time.”

She swiped the dimes from his hand. The contact of nails against his palm made him shiver more than he expected. She felt startlingly real.

A few hesitant steps later -- and he really had to question how poor Arthur was that she looked at the dimes like she’d never seen them before -- she turned to look at him. The pink clip holding her bangs back suddenly bobbed on her head.

“Daddy not let me have soda,” she said.

“Your daddy’s out working. Skedaddle.”

“But what if he come and sees?”

She was lucky her little girl charm made up for the annoying inconsistency of her grammar. If there was one thing Hoyt hated, it was inconsistency.

“We got two hours ‘til you gotta worry about that.”

He looked down again, swiping a red mark through Randall’s name. Another complaint from a kid’s parent from the latest birthday party. God damn --

A clanking made him look up, and sigh. She couldn’t reach the door handle.

“Every paper I can’t sign ‘cause of lookin’ after you is coming out of your daddy’s paycheck,” he threatened, standing to open the door.

The kid was made all the more startlingly real, assaulting his senses as he had to grab her arms and push her forward to get her to stop gawking at the animal statues and props in the storage closet that swallowed the hallway. At least the locker room was empty.

What the fuck are you thinking bringing her here, Fleck?

Leaning against the opposite wall, he watched with waning curiosity as she rushed over to the machine, concluded she was too short to reach the buttons, and pulled over a yellow chair (the uneven wobbly one that grated on his nerves to hear scraping against the ground in uneven increments) to stand on. Licks of curls rested on her shoulders, reminding Hoyt of her mop-headed father.

Rushing back to him, she triumphantly handed him a blue Pepsi can, keeping the Mountain Dew for herself. Eh, he’s had worse.

“Stay,” he said gruffly, unsure of what else to say. He was more accustomed to dogs than kids, but felt satisfied by her listening skills when she climbed into the yellow chair next to the black trunk-table.

Two minutes later and he found himself in the impossibly weird scenario of not only having lunch outside of the comfort of his office, but tossing a banana to a kid who, by all the laws of nature, should not really be allowed to exist. Cute as she may be, to see physical proof of Arthur Fleck’s sex life made it hard to look at her for more than a few seconds.

Hoyt looked anyway, a little annoyed at her inability to open the soda can with her frail little finger. Weak like her damn dad. He swiped it, opened it with a secretly satisfying hiss, and watched her take a great sip. Scrunching her nose -- thank god for her, it wasn’t like Arthur’s -- she stuck her tongue out in derision before reaching over to set it on the table.

Hoyt switched the cans. He hated Pepsi anyway.

He also hated bananas, and the leftover couscous his wife made the previous evening. Mentally he made a note to pack his own damn lunches from then on.

So the banana went to the kid, less out of concern for her eating and more as a means to stop any bellyaching from either her or his wife later.

“So your dad doesn’t let you have soda,” he found himself asking. Why his brain was unable to catch up with his mouth, he wasn’t really sure.

Through a mouthful, she shook her head at him. Swallowing down a sizeable bite, she said, “The sugar bad for my heart.”

“Hmm.”

“My mommy let me have soda, though,” she said, perkier now in a way that made him feel a little rigid. “She likes Coke.”

Hoyt held back a snort of derision and surprise. There were funnier things to mock Arthur about than his wife hitting it big and leaving. Coke was for the rich, he knew. Poor people ... drank Pepsi, he supposed, looking at the kid and the soda can again.

She seemed much more content with the Pepsi can. Metaphorical? Maybe. He was never one to think of analogies -- nor did he really care.

At the sound of the entrance banging open, her eyes widened and she went red. Her hands stayed firmly around the soda can as her proverbial cookie jar.

Whatever jaunty tune Randall was whistling as though he wasn’t twenty minutes late was cut short upon making eye contact with the kid. Hoyt saw something that looked friendly, but not in the same fashion that maybe Gary had in mind.

“Didn’t realize you paid for ‘em so young, Hoyt.”

An inexplicable burning sensation flared in the tips of Hoyt’s ears.

“It’s Arthur’s kid, now fuck off,” he said quickly. “And you’re late.”

“Car broke down again.”

“Well get it fixed, or don’t let it break down on my time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Randall sighed, breezing past them with his nicotine-smelling clown suit in hand, chief of the parents’ complaints.

The girl’s eyes trailed after the huge man, staying on the hallway long after he’d left. She leaned in just after he took in a mouthful of cold, crunchy couscous.

“What did he mean?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t ask questions.”

____________________

Hoyt’s leg bounced, eyeing the clock out of his peripheral. If Arthur believed Hoyt was letting himself be saddled with the kid for one minute past four o’clock, he was really out of it.

The kid was getting restless, and relentlessly annoying. She surprised him with her expert knowledge on blowing up and tying balloons -- of course Arthur would teach her that, what a valuable life skill -- but the inefficient scraping of two ends of a tightly-woven balloon into a barely-decipherable balloon animal made him wanna pop the thing right in her face. God damn, why did he keep a pile of them within her reach?

She made a snake, she declared. Or a worm.

Upon reaching for another one, it came with an unnecessary avalanche of wormy friends as the corner of a plastic bag scattered a cluster of colored balloons on the carpeted floor.

“Shit,” he grumbled, rounding the desk to collect them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put back the one she’d originally grabbed. “You’d better hope your dad has money to pay for new balloons, kid.”

“Shhh ...” His eyes narrowed at her, watching her lean down with him to collect handfuls -- albeit smaller handfuls -- of long balloons. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

____________________

Two minutes to four, Arthur came into the office, looking like a man on a mission. It was to his visible relief, Hoyt noticed, that the kid was happy and very much alive.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, hopping from the chair to take aim around his pant leg, leaving her picture book on the ground. A hand stroked some hair behind her ear and she smiled sappily up at him. “I drew you pictures and -- and I made you a balloon snake, but it popped.”

Groaning, he pried her arms away and bent down to her level.

“Were you good for Hoyt?” he asked, the faintest smile threatening to split on his face. Eight hours of work would not stop him from enjoying how soft her hair was, or how she smelled like cherries when she hugged his hulking, sweaty form.

“Just aces,” Hoyt smiled cloyingly, twisting a pen cap between his fingers. “Get a sitter for her tomorrow or don’t bother coming in.”

“That good, huh?” Arthur questioned, groaning again in achy protest as he stood up. “I’ll find a sitter for her, I promise.”

____________________

Three hours and two much-needed baths later, Arthur was finding a familiar rhythm in twirling his best girl around their little living room, not minding that he got lost in the mask he wore in front of her. Their old turntable warbled and scratched, but he scarcely noticed.

Carrie didn’t smile at anybody the way she smiled at him. He hoped she knew the flip side to that was true as well.

Que sera sera

Whatever will be, will be

The future’s not ours to see

Que sera sera

“I talked with Mom on the phone today,” he mentioned, watching her face brighten into a widening grin. “She said she wants to meet up with us to take you to lunch on Saturday.”

“Is she come back?” she asked. With her left hand enveloped in her father’s, she shifted her right arm so it rested against his chest and she could lean back to look at him. His face fell slightly.

“No, Peanut, I don’t think so. But you’ve been doing so well with school ‘til it closed, I thought you could tell her all the new rhyming words you learned. You learned what rhymes with bit, didn’t you?”

Her eyes traveled up to the ceiling, scrunching her nose to remember.

“Split,” she concluded, aglow in his proud smile. “Now you.”

“Befit. You?”

“Uh ... grit.”

At a very inelegant dip, which sent her into shrieking giggles as she felt her ponytail brush the floor, he said, “Banana split.”

“That doesn’t count!” she laughed.

“Oh, really? How does it not count?” he humored.

“Cause I said split! No cheating!”

“Then tool kit,” he smiled. “But now you have to think of two words.”

“Quit, and ...” She stopped to consider. “Oh, I learned one today! Shit.”

____________________

“Hoyt?”

“What do you want?”

Arthur looked from the paper in his hands, to the area of space between his person and the paper, filled in by the sight of his feet doing an awkward little soft shoe. Should he even question Hoyt about this? He was as honest as he could be, but something about this didn’t seem to add up.

“It’s just, uh ... my paycheck seems higher than it should be?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, no, but --”

“Then what is it?”

A nervous sweat started to form at Arthur’s hairline.

“It’s just that ... I did the math, and -- and it looks like you paid me for one of the days I didn’t work.”

“Are you tellin’ me you don’t think I did my math right? Go get a fuckin’ bank job if you think you know better.”

“So ... I’m -- I’m fine if I deposit the two hundred from the check?”

“Your money,” Hoyt grumbled, signing away another mindless paper. For being a clown business, he sure did have a shitload of paperwork. “Pay your rent, buy a hooker, some booze ... a snazzy divorce lawyer.”

Turning, Arthur felt something air-light in his chest, still disbelieving of the good fortune.

I can pay the rent, he registered. I can pay the rent and I can buy Carrie some new toys.

“Hey, how’s the little ankle-biter, by the way?”

He turned again, slower.

“What?”

“Kelly, the -- the kid you brought in on Monday. Raised hell in my office.”

“Oh ... Carrie?”

Arthur looked down at his shoes again, smiling. Staying with his mom and her newly-broken arm, bellyaching about wanting Hoyt at her babysitter again because “Nana can only make TV dinners.”

“She’s just aces.”

[justalittlelitnerd]

What If It’s Us by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

“I don’t know if we’re a love story or a story about love. But I know whatever we are that it’s great because we kept jumping through the hoops in the first place.”

I didn’t think this story could possibly be cuter than I expected to be but it was. It far surpassed my expectations with it’s quirky, insecure ensemble of characters and the story was written in a way that convinced me to accept such an open ending when usually that’s my biggest pet peeve.

Overall, this story is just a fun take on a whirlwind summer romance because it pulls in all the weird, slightly crazy aspects of modern dating like missed connections and the ease of internet stalking. It was exactly what I needed as a counterbalance to the dumpster fire that is 2020 and if you’re looking for that brief escape into a wholesome, awkward romance and story about first loves and second chances and the complexity of dating and friendships than I would highly recommend!  

My only semi-complaint were the issues within Arthur, Jessie, and Ethan’s friendship could’ve been fleshed out more to do justice to the time the authors took to flesh out the side characters and their relationships with the main characters. I felt like that fight didn’t balance out the fight Ben had with Dylan because it was clear how that disagreement was building over the course of the summer. Also it felt too obvious that Jessie and Ethan were secretly dating and I was confused and unsatisfied by Ethan’s explanation that he didn’t text Arthur back the whole summer simply because it felt like lying and didn’t think twice about how ignoring Arthur (especially right after he came out) would make him feel. Also the whole time it made it seem like Arthur and Jessie were slightly closer and she had no qualms texting him and lying to him all summer and let’s just say I’m not as forgiving as Arthur was.

Let me know your thoughts!

Keep reading for some fun quotes I saved!

Normally, being an intern is more boring than terrible, but today’s uniquely shitty. You know that kind of day where the printer runs out of paper, and there’s none in the supply room, so you try to steal some from the copier, but you can’t get the drawer open, and then you push some wrong button and the copier starts beeping? And you’re standing there thinking that whoever invented copy machines is this close to getting their ass kicked? By you? By a five-foot-six Jewish kid with ADHD and the rage of a tornado? That kind of day? Yeah.

I believe in love at first sight. Fate, the universe, all of it. But not how you’re thinking. I don’t mean it in the our souls were split and you’re my other half forever and ever sort of way. I just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path.

Ex-boyfriend. Which means Box Boy dates guys. And okay. Wow. This doesn’t happen to me. It just doesn’t. But maybe the universe works differently in New York. Box Boy dates guys. I’M A GUY.

It’s weird—now I want to prove it. I want some gay ID card to whip out like a cop badge. Or I could demonstrate in other ways. God. I would happily demonstrate.

“On the sad scale, how are you feeling today?” Dylan asks. “Opening-montage-of-Up sad? Or Nemo’s-mom-dying sad?” “Whoa, no. Definitely not opening-montage-of-Up sad. That shit was devastating. I’d guess I’m somewhere in between, like last-five-minutes-of-Toy-Story-3 sad. I just need time to bounce back.”

“Let’s talk about why you really didn’t mail the breakup box,” Dylan says, like he’s going to bill me for this conversation. “Only if you drop the therapist voice,” I say. “Maybe we can begin with why my tone bothers you. Do I remind you of an authority figure?”

I’m certain that I’m 100 percent gay because if I was even 1 percent bisexual I would be crushing hard on Samantha for looks and high energy alone. Dylan watches Samantha as if she were glowing, and I wonder when I went dim for Hudson. If I ever really glowed for him at all.

“I would love to start my own app games. I have this one idea. It’s like Frogger, but instead of heavy-traffic streets, it takes place on the sidewalks of New York. You die if you get hit with someone’s shopping cart and you lose points if you cross a tourist’s path while they’re taking photos.

Emotional blue balls. That’s what it feels like. It’s being handed everything you’ve ever longed for, only for it to slip through your fingers. And there’s no way to fix it. Nothing you can do but slink toward the kitchen counter in a full-body mope.

"You’re not being fair to yourself,” Dylan says. “Maybe not. But I’m being honest.”

It’s this strangling fear that we’ll be sitting there and we’ll run out of something to say and I’ll be able to witness the exact moment someone falls out of love with me because I don’t have enough substance to keep a conversation alive over a meal. Why would you want to talk to me for the rest of your life?

But no. Not even close. Instead, it’s me bleeding out all my neuroses, looking for answers to questions I have no right to be asking. But I don’t know how to make myself stop asking them. People like me should come with a mute button.

I have only said one word on this call—a call I made—and I’m already ready to settle into another few hours of Arthur rambling. It’s better than my favorite Lorde and Lana Del Rey songs.

“You can sing a different song next time,” I say. I like that we’ll have a next time. That even though things have gone wrong, we’ve tried to make it right. “So I was nervous to admit this at karaoke, but—” “Please don’t tell me you’re actually a bunch of rats wearing a cute boy as a disguise.” “Worse.” I take a deep, dramatic breath. “I haven’t listened to Hamilton.” He doesn’t say anything. Then the line goes dead.

I tell him how I want to write Hamilton and Harry Potter crossover fanfiction and call it The Great American Fantasy Novel and stage all those duels in the dueling club and what houses I would sort everyone in.

“All history should be taught through rap by Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

“How lucky we are to be alive right now, right?” “Oh my god, you’re speaking Hamilton—I’m just so into you. I’m helpless.” I’m so into him too.

“For the most part, I think. But every city has its assholes.” I want to hug him, but he doesn’t want to be touched right now. Like any affection is going to become a target sign on our backs. Like we’ll get punished because our hearts are different.

But it’s just like the old posts on Instagram that I can’t get myself to just delete. Like Hudson never happened. Like he’s someone to be ashamed of. And throwing away the good memories feels like a slap in the face to our history. It has nothing to do with the future.

When the song ends, I’m ready to apologize. But Arthur takes my phone and looks up a cover of “Only Us” from Dear Evan Hansen, and he comes closer to me as he sings the words “So what if it’s us, what if it’s us, and only us.” This song is so beautiful. What it feels like to be wanted by someone who sees you for who you are. How the world—the business of Times Square—can feel like it’s falling away when you’re with the right person.

But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good.

Maybe I’m feeling masochistic. Or maybe I’ve unlocked the secret, and this is how people focus. All you have to do is have a cute boy rip your heart out, then let your best friends stomp all over it, and if it’s still beating even a little bit, finish the job yourself. Say the worst things and yell your voice raw and destroy everything you love until, lo and behold, the monotony of work is a relief.

I don’t know how to tell Hudson that I want to throw away a box of things that used to mean everything to me. But that fucking box. I can’t keep treating it like something that belongs in a museum’s exhibit specializing in one guy’s history of breaking hearts.

“Do not ask any what-if questions about you and Hudson dating again. That would probably end in literal heartbreak at the hands of someone pretty familiar with the law because of his summer internship but too reckless to care.”

It’s hard to be a fully functioning Arthur when your heart lives in four envelopes.

I can’t lose you forever. You can’t be someone I just knew for one summer. I have to know you every summer.

[michaelxtrevino]

Inspired by this fanfiction by @samwpmarleau​​. I say inspired, but that’s a lie. I took more than just inspiration, this is a write up of one of the scenes from Tyler’s POV.

“Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans”

He was going to punch Matt in the face for bailing without even giving him a warning. Okay, granted, the warning did come, but was it really a warning if he texted Tyler after he had already arrived? Caroline had seen him and had greeted him brightly by then, which meant he couldn’t just get away from there without anyone else noticing. If Caroline saw someone, she made sure everyone saw them.

Trivia night was weird with just Caroline, Bonnie and Stefan in there with him. There usually was double these many people in there which made it a little louder, sometimes wilder. But that night was a boring one to say the least. Especially with Bonnie and Stefan in the path for winning. There was no gloating, no bragging, seriously what was the point of a game if people were going to be modest about winning? This wasn't how it would go if it had been Tyler and Caroline being fighting for the top spot, that’s for sure. They both loved winning and it showed. Because they both loved to show it. Which was kinda frowned upon mostly but who cared really? 

Unfortunately though, they were only fighting for the lame third and last places, and Tyler was determined on winning. He didn't spend all evening here to lose. Well, he'd technically already lost but the last place was not something he or anyone in the right fucking mind ever wanted. 

“We should probably just give Caroline the crown right now,” Bonnie snorted when she looked at the card and Tyler rolled his eyes, anticipating a question which he had no idea about. “In The Real Housewives of Orange County, which housewife departed the show between seasons two and three?”

Ha! That was something he actually knew even if Bonnie thought otherwise. “Jo De La Rosa.” he answered gleefully. About the only good thing which came out of watching all those seasons of that show with Caroline. Well, the only good thing apart from the fun perks which she used to bribe him with.  

“Uh...correct,” Bonnie looked gobsmacked. “How do you know the answer to that?”

On second thought, he should just have let Caroline win. “Just from around, it’s not like I watch that reality TV trash or anything.” he hastily made an excuse. 

“No, I have it on good authority that you enjoy this reality TV trash, Tyler Lockwood. You watched every episode with me.” Of course Caroline had to say that, and full-naming him too. But even that was not going to make him let people believe he actually enjoyed watching Real Housewives of Orange County. 

“Yeah, because at the end of each season you gave me a bl—” Wait, what the actual fuck was he saying. “—ueberry muffin.”

Wow, a fucking terrible save, the worst one ever, but a save nevertheless. Clearly, nobody was convinced by his redaction, but he tried to play it cool despite feeling slightly embarrassed. Luckily, Bonnie and Stefan were tactful enough to get the hell out of there almost immediately. 

“That was awkward.” Caroline said just as the door closed. 

“It’s not like they didn’t know we were together." Tyler said defensively, but with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, glancing at Caroline. "Pretty sure Stefan knew we did more than just make out, Care." he added, a little more gently. 

"I know, but still.”

He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. Tyler wasn't exactly proud of his fumble, it was a tad bit embarrassing to him too except he didn't really want to admit that to her. Among other things. He was cursing himself for even coming today. Matt was always a safe buffer whenever he had to spend time around Caroline. And with him absent today, here he was already having awkward conversations about their past sex lives when left alone with her for two minutes. There was a reason he rarely let himself see her in anything but a group setting. 

Maybe a sorry at this point would be a good idea, but a sorry would also show he gave a crap about possibly upsetting her even for a silly stupid thing such as this. He should not be feeling this concerned. So he simply pressed his lips together as he continued to help clean up, keeping his face as void of any emotion as he could. He was getting good at that. 

Silence ensued which made him miss the times they used to have so much to talk to each other, and also the times when the silences between them used to be just so comfortable. This wasn’t the same, and he was still getting used to the differences after all this time. 

He got up to say goodbye, ready to leave as quick as he could but she hugged him before he could turn away, which made him stand still for a brief moment in surprise. His hands wrapped around her soon enough though, a familiar feeling of comfort washed through him. It was.. kinda sad to think about how a simple hug from her made him feel so nostalgic. 

There was the scent of her shampoo which he got a whiff of which literally only made things worse and proved to him that this wasn’t just sad -- it was truly pathetic. That stupid flowery, fruity shampoo. He had no idea what the hell it was, he never really got around to asking her, but it still soothed him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that every time he had come back to her before, he had his enhanced vampire senses, and it was the first thing which hit him when he hugged her and closed his eyes in relief. The thought made him pull her closer to him, holding on to her tighter, holding onto this moment because he knew it wasn’t one which he could often return to. 

And somehow that wasn’t a new feeling. When they had been together, he had not been around as much as he wanted, which meant every moment with her had always been precious to him. Sometimes he wondered how it came to this, how they barely even spoke to each other these days, and how she was dating Stefan of all people now. He was better than some other people he supposed, but he was still an asshole. Not to mention he was also someone who was convinced Tyler treated her terribly throughout their relationship, fuck knows why. He could only hope that if he could act so high and mighty, he treated Caroline the way she deserved. Like she was the center of the fricking universe, nothing less would be enough to show her how much she was loved and cherished. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there with her in his arms but he liked it, he missed it. She was the one who pulled away first and he immediately felt saddened by the distance between them. She didn't move far though -- his hands still rested on her waist when their eyes met. He should probably be pulling back from her but he simply did not want to. And just for a second it seemed like she didn’t either. Because he could see in her eyes, the yearning she felt, the yearning which he knew all too well from the time they were together. 

His gaze fell to her lips for a moment, his own parting slightly, his mind revisited far too many memories than he liked to admit. With her right here it was getting hard to lie to himself about how he felt, how he wanted more than what he could have, how it was all too late. She stepped back as though she was coming out of a trance and he let her go because there was absolutely no reason to hold on to her. 

Except, he found himself wishing there was. 

“Well, drive safe.”

It took him a moment to respond, to come back to reality, his gaze still held hers for a long moment. It was unfair that after all these years she could still make him feel so many things. “Yeah. Sure.”

A couple more moments were spent simply looking at each other before he quickly turned away, not wanting to say something or do something which he shouldn’t. Bonnie was gone when he stepped outside and he walked straight to his car. He could hear Stefan say goodbye to him but he pretended not to hear, instead getting into his car and driving off. 

For the longest time he had thought that some day they would be together again, happy again, but that day had never come. He had once told her, what seemed like a lifetime ago, that they would find a way, that they were immortal and they had all the time in the world. But it wasn’t the case anymore. He was a mortal now, they didn’t have all the time in the world. Perhaps putting some distance between the girl he once loved -- no, the girl he still loved and himself was for the best. Needless to say, he wasn’t moving on from anything. But she was living a happy life, that was all that mattered.

So what if he wasn’t part of it?

[save-the-spiral]

at what point are you willing to listen to my silence

HI! guess who wrote a 4K word long nolan & duncan fanfiction. Gay Banter and Emotional Confrontation, that’s all I can say.

(Read it on Ao3)

Nolan chewed at the cord of his amulet, frowning around the harsh black line pressing into his chin, the gem at the end heavy with magic. He was focused on his work, brain sluggish, at the tail end of an all-nighter spent doing his homework. While he was one of the few who genuinely enjoyed Professor Drake’s class, he had to admit that the essay lengths were ridiculous, and the obscure topics made it awful.

Nolan yawned, cord falling out of his mouth, the pendant clattering onto the table, snapping him out of his daze. He hadn’t even realized he was chewing at the cord, and he frowned down at it, before stuffing the amulet under his robe, above his t-shirt, and picked up his quill, ready to edit his work.

Instead of dipping the nib into his inkwell, he ended up toying with the quill, moving his fingers so it would wave back and forth, the plain brown owl’s feather blurring at the speed. It fell from his hand when he yawned again, stretching and rubbing at his sore wrist and hand.

In this dark corner of the library, there was no clock, just the faint ticking from the large grandfather clock by Mr. Argleston’s desk. This late at night, there was nothing else. No shuffling papers, muffled conversation, or even soft breathing. Nolan settled in at around dinner time, and he had heard only a few people come in, and they all left eventually.

Really, it was his fault after all. He had put off the essay for the week he was supposed to be working on it. But it was so infuriatingly broad, so seemingly insurmountable, that he couldn’t even find a place to start. Even with a faint idea, it wasn’t even remotely interesting. So he left it until tonight.

Nolan leaned on his arms, bright yellow sleeves muted in the dim candle light. He let his hood fall over his eyes, dark blue trim working well to allow him peace. This was supposed to be easy. He had done this same thing so many times, and had excelled so much. He just had to grab the quill, and write. There was no excuse that could translate from him just sitting here and trying for hours, ending up with nothing.

He closed his eyes, trying to organize this in his mind. Main ideas, topic sentences, theme. Just copy over the introduction and reword it for the conclusion, add in some information from the body of the essay. It’s supposed to be easy.

In the end he was in that warm nest of his arms, breathing towards his left arm so he could get fresh air between the slant of his arm and the table. It was so dark, and he was so tired. The drifting between sleep and wakefulness was simple.

Waking up to a light prod on his shoulder, however, was not as easy. With a groan, Nolan raised his head, hand already shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in-

With a swear, Nolan sat up straight, looking around, only to see Duncan Grimwater, Ravenwood’s resident talented necromancer, sitting across from him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Bit early for an afternoon nap, huh?” Duncan finally said.

“Early?” Nolan managed to get out, yawning and then returning to rubbing his eyes, not even fazed by his hood falling and revealing his dirty blonde hair in a bird’s nest, his undercut growing out from lack of care. 

Duncan was staring at him, face unreadable. “It’s like, one o’clock dude.” He said dryly, watching as Nolan’s eyes lit up with fear.

Nolan tensed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to resist the urge to rip up his now useless essay. Professor Drake did not accept late work, even from his best student. Maybe especially from his best student. 

His harsh breathing filled the little alcove of bookshelves. 

“I, uh, heard that you were asleep in here.” Duncan said awkwardly. 

“So?” Nolan finally snapped out, an edge to his tone. “What do you want?” 

“Maybe I wanted to grace myself with your presence.” Duncan’s awkward pressed lips quickly twitched into a sneer. “Maybe someone decided to worry about you for probably the first time in your life.”

“Who?” Nolan asked, making a show of looking around for someone not there. If he wanted to encroach on Nolan’s sleep far past any time that would make him punctual to class, he’d have to admit to the real reason why.

“Some asshole who thought he’d try to be nice, I guess.” With that, Duncan leaned back in his chair, making a show of going on the back two legs.

“Key word ‘try’.”

“As if you’re an expert on kindness.”

“Don’t believe it exists without strings attached.” Nolan shrugged, shoulders aching in protest to sleeping slumped over on a table. 

“You don’t bring much to the table aside from being good at tests, Stormgate.” Duncan plucked one of Nolan’s quills out of its inkpot and began twirling it, regardless of the spots of ink staining the table and his fingers, his hood falling back a bit to reveal small, thin dreadlocks and an undercut.

“You don’t bring anything aside from knowing how to make Susie Gryphonbane pissed off and an obvious crush on your dead ex-professor.” Nolan snapped.

Duncan dropped the quill back on the table and let the front two legs of his chair slam on the floor. “Well then. As your fellow useless asshole wizard, I was worried about you.”

Nolan swallowed, staring at the small black onyx earrings Duncan wore so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact or acknowledge the implied question of if he was okay. “Seems like a stupid thing to do.” 

“Well, it’s obvious you don’t try it. Worrying about yourself doesn’t lead to the hot mess you are now.” Duncan smirked, still mean, but at least not going for the jugular like they had before.

“At least I’m hot for once.” 

The startled snort of laughter from Duncan made Nolan smile.

“What’s the deal, anyway?” Duncan said as his laughter died. “You’re brilliant. Spending hours perfecting an already perfect essay seems overkill, even for you. Some new kid impress Cyrus more than you?”

Nolan huffed, shoving the now crumpled and slightly drool stained essay he had slept on across the table. The few wobbly sentences were pathetic, especially in the light of day. 

“So I see I had a reason to worry at least,” Duncan read the half finished introduction before sliding the paper back. “So how long until Cyrus puts a hit on you for being a-” He cleared his throat, before starting an awful impression of the awful professor. “‘Disgrace to all beings who have ever even thought of myth magic’?” 

Nolan laughed, crumpling up the parchment and tossing it to the floor. “Don’t know when he’ll order that hit, but I hope he does it soon. The waiting’s the worst part.” 

Duncan nodded sagely. “Ah. Not your first assasination attempt via the good professor?”

“I’ve got my fake I.D.s and the summer home in Zafaria all set up for times like these.” Nolan’s seriousness was offset by his smirk, by the new light in his pale eyes.

They both shared a laugh, and Nolan began packing up his books into his bag, unwashed hair falling into his eyes as he organized the books by color, making sure to store his quills properly and cap all his inkpots.

He ran a hand through his hair, realizing that he’d have to actually take a shower again even if it was sensory hell, and glanced over to see that Duncan was still sitting there, face more expressive and open than Nolan had ever seen. This wasn’t the stormy streets of Triton Avenue, or the stuffy classrooms, where Duncan constantly picked at obvious weaknesses and strived to prove himself better. In a quiet, sunlit library alcove he was a different person.

“Still hanging around?” Nolan finally said.

“Never got any information to assuage my obviously altruistic worries.” Duncan said, staring hard in a way that made Nolan uncomfortable. 

Nolan was always uncomfortable when looking people in the eyes, though, so that was nothing new. The silence stretched on, and Nolan shifted his weight, debating how much running out of the library would be worth the trouble and inevitable temporary ban. 

“Are you okay, Stormgate?” Duncan’s voice went soft, and for a moment he might as well have been speaking some ancient language for all Nolan could comprehend it. 

Nolan felt his chest tighten, and wondered if he was going to cry. He hadn’t in months. Finally, he just shrugged, voice distant and fragile when he spoke. 

“I don’t think you want my answer to that question.” 

Duncan’s face immediately shut off, twisting into an annoyed scowl as he scooted back in his chair, the screech of the wood against wood harsh and awful to Nolan’s ears. 

“Fine.” 

Then Nolan was alone, hand gripping the strap of his bag too hard from where it pulled at his aching shoulder. He couldn’t tell where he misstepped there, and assumed it was starting the conversation in the first place. He yawned again, and stood up straight, stretching, before pulling his hood up.

Younger students walked out of his way when they crossed his path as he walked across the Commons. The dark shadows of the tunnel into Ravenwood were like a second blanket, a comfort in pavlovian, knowledge that he’d be in his safe, solitary dorm soon enough.

Then he walked out into the nice, sunlit courtyard in front of Bartleby, only to see Cyrus Drake striding out of the Myth School. The man obviously noticed him, and began walking faster.

Now was the time to run, he thought.

Turning around and racing back to the Commons was easy, deciding on a direction after that wasn’t so simple. He stumbled on the cobblestone path, then decided to go back to the library. His exhausted brain decided to treat this situation like it was life or death, so of course he made a dumb decision. 

His professor would know to look for him in the library, as easily as he’d know to look in Cyclops Lane, where his family home is. 

So, maybe that realization was what made him veer off of the path behind the waterfall of Rainbow Bridge, where everyone now knew Nightside was hidden.

Nolan knew too, of course. In theory. He knew a lot of things in theory, but found his own execution lacking. It’s the main reason why he prefered homework over quests, even if the extra credit is enough to never touch a quill again.

He had never seen the dark, dank cave with his own eyes. Or the very intimidating skull embedded into the half open door. It was his lifeline, though, so he walked quickly forward, shaking his hands to get the faint mist of water off of them. He shook his hands out more after that, letting himself stim to help with the nerves that onset him in this new environment.

Nightside was… not as scary as he thought it would be from the stories people tell. It was like a more tame version of the dark caves hiding in the other streets. There were little necromancers milling about, getting out of class. Malorn was herding them like they were a clowder of emo cats, and Marla and Penny were standing on the sidewalk, watching like one watched vaguely wild animals in a zoo. 

Then a hand was on his bicep, and Nolan was being pulled onto half wilted grass, close to the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Duncan glared at him, a real one. He wasn’t the sarcastic asshole admitting he was worried. He was back to just being an asshole.

“Drake may have forgone the hit and was approaching me with intent to kill.” Nolan said, voice monotone, not looking Duncan in the eyes, watching the crowd of necromancers as they finally lined up properly, Malorn smiling wide as he directed them all into Nightside’s own small town. Duncan pulled harder, fingers digging meanly into Nolan’s soft flesh, huffing out what a generous person might call a laugh. 

“Idiot.” Duncan muttered, loud enough so Nolan could hear it. He probably did it on purpose, there’s no point in pretending either of them are nice people. Wasn’t that the point of their library chat?

Nolan just stumbled along until they finally went into the old death school’s tower. Cobwebs populated the bookshelves more than books did, the rugs were stained and maybe moth bitten, and it smelled vaguely sweet, like someone tried to cover up a smell.

At his scrunched up nose, Duncan laughed, letting go of Nolan’s arm as they both kicked off their boots by the door. “That smell is Penny. She’s got a new pyromancer friend and is now making a lot of candles, the flowery-er the better.” 

“Not the worst hobby.” Nolan finally said, unsure how to not insult the girl, even if she wasn’t there. 

“Keeps her out of trouble.” Duncan drawled, then walked to a kitchenette. He pulled out a spotless kettle, probably the cleanest thing this building had seen in years, and began heating it up. He shrugged off his outer robe, leaving a plain grey tunic and black school slacks.

“I don’t think she could get in trouble if she tried.” Nolan was still standing by the door. 

“Don’t underestimate the lengths Marla will go to when something gets in her head.” 

“Trying so hard must be exhausting.”

“You would know, Mister I-Spent-Sixteen-Hours-In-A-Library.” 

“Says the idiot who came to see if I was okay.” 

“You still never answered my question.” Duncan turned around from his puttering around in the kitchen, and gave Nolan a Look.

“Well it’s still none of your fucking business!” Nolan found himself snapping far quicker than he typically did, voice eager to jump up and crack before slipping down into a yell that sounded far too much like an echo of his late parents’ voices.

“It isn’t?” Duncan walked closer, eyes trained on him as he pulled out two chairs at the table in the middle of the room. “What about the others?” 

Nolan snorted, leaning back against the stone wall to watch Duncan, shoulder blades resting uncomfortably against the cold stone. “What others?” 

“The other people who’ve made the unfortunate decision to give a shit about you? What, are they idiots like me? Nosy?”

 “There’s no one else.” Nolan said.

“Ceren. Malorn. Penny. Artur. Fuck, even Boris for all the time he spends on the stupid newspaper, he notices you and how you look closer and closer to a ghoul every day. I’m just the only one who isn’t afraid to call you on your bullshit. You are not okay, Nolan.” 

Nolan stared, feeling himself lean more into the wall, hoping it would open up and bury him inside the stone just so he wouldn’t have to continue this conversation. Duncan was pouring hot water into mugs, and pulling out a box of teabags, dropping them in before turning back around, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you want tea or not?” 

Nolan didn’t even try opening his mouth, knowing from the sensation in his throat that he had gone nonverbal, the stress of the situation taking things out of his hands. Feeling weak and tired and ready for another six hour nap, he found himself sitting on the floor now. The stone wall continued to leech warmth away from his spine, the rug was even less comfortable than he thought.

As good a place as any to start crying.

Duncan seemed alarmed when he muttered. “Didn’t know you hated tea that much.” 

Nolan might’ve laughed if he wasn’t in the middle of a meltdown that stole his normally white-knuckled control over his body. While he was usually a puppeteer of his clumsy, uncooperative self, when it comes to this his strings, long thin nerves extending from his spine and the tips of his fingers and from every single hair on his head are all shaken, every plate of his body convergent or transform boundaries, tectonics doing nothing but continuing their work, manipulated by outside force into compliance until they shudder and subduct into volcanoes and trenches and ridges and wide, empty abyssal plains. The metaphor falls apart as he is, a slow shattering like ripping up the dotted lines on what will be a puzzle. 

The meticulous process of putting it back together is where Nolan often loses himself for days, skipping school just to sit in the home he grew up in and try to process and figure out how to be again, instead of this dissociative being where the world around him is too sped up and he feels like he exists five feet to the left of his body.

“-okay? Nolan? Nolan?!”

Heavy breathing rattled out of Nolan’s chest, and he has both hands on his head, pushing, trying to interlock his fingers into his hair so he doesn’t hit his own skull with clenched fingers, palms stiff and wrists aching. His knees push against his soft stomach, boots sliding a rug underfoot and rumpling it. 

Nolan meant to make an inquisitive sound for Duncan to hear but instead it devolved into humming and trying to fill his brain with something other than the shaky feeling of tensed muscles, as if he was a series of rubber bands and paperclips just waiting to snap and cause a mess. 

“Nolan? Oh I don’t know anything about healing, are you having a panic attack maybe? I really thought this was going to end with the tea and maybe some flirting- gosh, this is not how I thought any of this would go, I’m sorry.” 

Duncan continued to ramble, eventually sitting on the floor in front of Nolan, setting down a tray between them. 

Nolan’s breathing slowed, still ragged, his throat hoarse and face sticky from tears. His face hurt, he felt numb, empty again, a water glass overfilled by clumsy hands. Eventually he was reaching out, mind still distant from body, and awkward fingers fumbled for the handle of the blue speckled mug, wrist weak enough that he grabbed it with his other hand as well. The heat from the tea sunk deep into his chest when he brought it closer, and he closed his eyes, trying to not dwell on anything but the tea.

Duncan made a cut off sound, and when Nolan opened his eyes, Duncan’s mouth was slightly open, face twisted by confusion. “Are you… okay? There’s a couch upstairs you can crash on, Nolan.” 

Nolan just nodded, sipping the tea, now lukewarm. 

Duncan set down his own mug and leaned back on his hands, looking at Nolan like he’d never seen him before. 

“Okay then. We don’t… have to talk if you don’t wanna. But we can. Talking to you is nice, Nolan. I’d hate if-” Duncan looked to the side, flushing slightly, “If you weren’t there, y’know. You’re like the rest of us, a fixture of Ravenwood or whatever. But I’d also like to be your friend, I mean, we’d all like that.” 

Nolan watched how Duncan’s face, soft without it’s usual anger or derision, twitched into a smile. 

“We really all do care. Penny wants to know your favorite color and scent for a candle. Marla wants to study history with you to see if it’s different in the myth school. I want…” Duncan’s voice cracks with emotion, “I just want a friend, one who can keep up when I want to bitch about stuff, one who doesn’t care if I’m nice or not.”

Nolan drained the rest of his tea, gently leaving the mug on the tray, before shifting to stretch his legs out, still silent as he stood, suddenly feeling a lot less small. He still wanted to hide away from the world, wished he was back in his dorm where he controlled everything and knew every object and how to be most comfortable, but right now he would settle for the cold stone walls and the pins and needles sensation in his legs. 

He then pointed upwards and cocked his head, face blank and eyes heavy. 

Duncan got up hastily when he noticed, setting their tray onto an empty bookshelf. “The couch upstairs?”

Nolan nodded, feeling a headache pulse behind his eyes, crawling in the back of his skull. 

“I’ve got some blankets in the cupboard- feel free to head upstairs and get comfortable, it’s clean and usually just for a reading area.” Duncan crossed the room, opening a large armoire.

Nolan’s socked feet began to ache noticeably once he began ascending the stairs. He supposed at least a full day of wearing boots would do that to, and there wasn’t much else to be done. Without realizing, he trailed a hand against the stone wall, palm flat, ready to catch himself if he fell. It was instinct from climbing up the stairs to his dorm for years. 

The room at the top of the death tower was a bit dreary. Muted light from a single window gazing over the small opening street of Nightside flooded a slice of the room, leaving the door and the couch on the opposite wall in almost complete darkness. The patchy rugs and mismatched chairs were comfortable looking, and obviously lived in. Though a few of the shadowy diagrams and realistic portraits left something to be desired.

With clumsy hands, Nolan dragged his robe off, crossing the room. He tossed it on the couch, by the pillow furthest from the window. Sitting down, he sighed at how comfortable even this lumpy couch was. He was already glad he managed to get himself together enough to get off of the floor, and this was better already.

“Oh, it’s dark in here.” Duncan’s voice echoed against the stone walls. 

Nolan startled, a choked gasp leaving him. 

“Sorry! Sorry. Want me to light a candle or something? We’ve got plenty.” Duncan’s arms were full of several quilts, a slightly moth eaten comforter, and an array of strangely shaped knitted blankets.

Nolan shook his head, and stood, grabbing a few of the quilts and the comforter. A sudden sense of insecurity came from him realizing he was in simple black slacks and a white t-shirt, slightly stained with ink, but his exhaustion caught up to him.

“The knitted ones are uh- the death school’s attempt at starting a knitting circle? Please don’t tell anyone.” 

At Duncan’s almost desperate tone, Nolan managed a smirk, eyebrow raised. 

Duncan snorted. “Well. Tell whoever you want. As long as it doesn’t get traced back to me.”

Nolan shrugged, expression specifically blank just to watch Duncan’s half smile become a bit worried. It was then that Nolan began swaying on his feet trying to set up his ‘bed’, vision dimming slightly.

“Woah there. Woah-” Duncan stepped forward, tossing the knitted disasters behind him to steady Nolan. “I got you, it’s fine.” He muttered, warm breath puffing against Nolan’s cheek, more a reassurance to himself than anything else.

Nolan stood for a moment, yawning while Duncan set out the comforter as something to lie on, and guided Nolan to sit down. Nolan flopped against the pillow, murmuring.

“What was that?” Duncan said quietly, leaning in.

Nolan grumbled, half asleep, and threw a quilt over himself before turning over. “G’night, Duncan.”

Duncan’s eyes widened and he backed up. He walked quietly across the room, only allowing himself to look back when he reached the doorway.

The only visible part of Nolan was his hair, the rest a badly hidden lump of a conjurer. Soft snoring echoed slightly in the room, and Duncan found himself smiling, a hand reaching up to his mouth as he leaned against the stone wall for a moment.

“Goodnight, Nolan.” He finally said, and turned to walk downstairs, and let his new friend rest.

[manage-mischief]

Ground Zero

Part One: Fears

Read on AO3 here. 

Summary: Two-shot. Though Tonks had been fantasizing about moments like this for months—moments when the two of them were in bed together—none of them had involved quite this much blood or mortal peril. In which Remus is injured during a mission and Tonks has to think fast to save his life.

Author’s Note: This will be a two-shot and perhaps part of a larger Remadora series. They are definitely one of my OTPs, and I feel like a lot of their relationship was glossed over in the books. This story attempts to place a timeline on some of their romance. It takes places soon after Order of the Phoenix, before the Half-Blood Prince. I envision it happening right before Harry arrives at the Weasley’s and sees Tonks and Molly there. I’m pretty new to fanfiction writing, so any kind comments would be appreciated!

“We’d like a room, please,” Tonks furiously attempted to steady her voice as she supported the injured man beside her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping the innkeeper would assume they were nothing more than two love-birds who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, looking for a quiet night away.

“Just a mo’,” the woman behind the desk remarked, holding up a finger while flipping through a large, leather-bound journal. “Let me check what’s available, dears…let’s see let’s see…”

Tonks bounced her leg, irritated. It took all of her strength not to vault herself over the desk and strangle the old lady. This was a crisis, goddammit!

Breathe, just breathe.

Normally, Tonks prided herself on her ability to stay cool under fire. Normally, she’d be calm and collected, just like Moody had taught her. And she would have been, if anyone else had been leaning on her for support, dripping blood. Anyone else besides Remus Lupin.  

Remus had underestimated her when they first met. He, like many other members of the Auror Department, the Order, and her own family, quickly wrote her off: too young, too frivolous, too clumsy to do any good. He would scold her constantly. “Nymphadora,” he’d sigh in his disappointed professor voice, shaking his head whenever she had said or done something undignified. Naturally, he’d annoyed the living shit out of her. She couldn’t stand his constant nagging. She’d even asked Moody for a transfer.

“The two of you work well together,” her mentor had grunted, clearly indicating that there was no conversation to be had. She had more sense than to argue with Mad-Eye about such matters. He was a stubborn arse, just like her. It was why they got along so well.

It wasn’t until Remus and Tonks’ first real, proper, hunt-for-Death-Eaters-and-try-not-to-get-killed mission that the pair had bonded. Together, they had taken down a small group of Voldemort’s cronies stationed in Muggle London. Tonks had saved Remus’s life, blocking an avada kedavra on course to hit him square in the chest and taking down four baddies in her wake. Funnily enough, Remus gained a bit more respect for her after that. She began to return the feeling.

Respect blossomed into friendship. And friendship, at least for Tonks, had evolved into something much deeper and much, much harder to name. Her heart began to flutter each time he walked into the room. Their banter made her blush. She found herself making excuses to get close to him, despite every logical, reasonable voice in her head telling her becoming romantically involved with her partner would be an absolutely horrid idea. She never had been good at listening to reason.

Romantic feelings aside, the duo had made quite an impact on the Order. Their latest excursion had been going quite well…until it hadn’t. They were camped out in the woods near a small Muggle town in Wales. The Order had received a tip that Fenrir Greyback and his gang were hiding there, planning some attack for You-Know-Who. Despite the life-or-death circumstances, their little camping trip had been very enjoyable. The witch and wizard had sat under the trees, sharing secrets and stories of past mischief well into the night. Tonks even thought she had felt Remus’s hand brush hers as they lay on their backs, looking up at the stars that shone through the branches above.  

Then, they had been ambushed. Greyback had known they were coming. He must have. Three of his minions jumped them, just as their fire was beginning to die out. Tonks managed to defeat two of them in under a minute. She huffed, extremely pleased with her handiwork—until she heard a loud crash and a scream behind her. She whipped around. There was Remus, lying face down on the forest floor, bleeding profusely. The third member of Greyback’s pack grinned and darted back into the forest, leaving Tonks to take in the sight of her injured partner.

It was clear that their hastily-assembled campsite would be insufficient for tending to Remus’s wounds, so Tonks had Apparated to the village just beyond the woods. Her main priority was getting him to a safe and comfortable place. Running water and heat would be a plus. This inn had been the closest space she could find. The building itself was a bit run down, but the warm glow of the window lights and the steady stream of smoke emerging from the chimney had seemed promising enough. And so, she led her partner through the door, attempting to conceal the blood seeping through his shirt as though not to draw suspicion. The last thing she needed was the Muggle police getting involved. She was not in the mood to Obliviate anyone tonight.

“Hold on, we’ll get you fixed up,” she whispered in Remus’s ear, very aware of her own body pressed against his as he leaned on her for support. He nodded, his face paler than usual. Still, when the innkeeper looked up from her desk, he forced a smile, trying his best to keep up their alibi.

“Aha, here you are! Room 219, second floor. Should be a cozy place for you two to…relax.” The matron winked and flashed a sly grin. Tonks tried to laugh, but was sure it sounded more like a sob. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

Tonks guided Remus around the corner. No elevator. Perfect. “Remus, we’re going to have to climb the stairs. I don’t think it’s safe for me to Apparate with you again. Can you do that?” Remus grimaced and nodded. Tonks adjusted her grip, holding up as much of his weight as she could. “Ok. One step at a time, Remus. Let’s do this,” she said, more as encouragement for herself than for him. This was not the time to be tripping up the stairs (as she had been known to do, on occasion).

Slowly, painstakingly, Tonks and Remus made their way up the stairs. Every step was agony. She could feel his breath hitch and his body tense at each movement. He winced, he groaned. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped into pieces. She couldn’t stand seeing him in this much pain. Get it together, Nymphadora! She scolded herself, using her hated first name. Focus, dammit! Why did emotions have to be so bothersome? This was just a mission. Just like any other mission. She had to resist the urge to break down. She refused to let her feelings…whatever they happened to be…get in the way of saving Remus.

Finally, they made it to their room. Tonks eased Remus onto the bed—of course, there was only one, because evidently the universe was determined to make Tonks’s life as miserable and humiliating as possible—and swung the knapsack she had been carrying off of her back. “Alright, I have a bit of Healer training. Let me see what we’ve got here…” she paused, her face reddening. “I’ll need to…um…expose the affected area….” Remus coughed. She chose to believe it was due to the exertion from stair climbing. There was certainly no awkwardness here. No sir. She was a professional.

“Okay then. Right. Um…” she kneeled in front of him and examined his injuries. There were three bloody gashes that began slightly left of his navel and wrapped around his left side before traveling up his back to his shoulder blade. His shirt was plastered to the area with a mixture of sweat and congealed blood. Scanning the rest of his body, she noticed a few more minor scrapes, as well as what seemed to be a large puncture wound on his left thigh. His breath continued in a ragged rhythm. Her hands began to shake.

“I’ve looked worse,” he chirped, cracking a feeble smile. His grin gave her a jolt of confidence. Reinvigorated, she stood and grabbed her knapsack, which had been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

“Debatable, old man,” she teased back. “I’m going have to get a better look at what we’re dealing with. Do you think you can take off your clothes?” Was it just a trick of the light, or had she seen some color return to his cheeks?

“I hate to ask, but… I don’t think I can manage it on my own.” He demonstrated a feeble attempt to raise the hem of his shirt, wincing. Tonks swallowed and nodded slowly. She plunged her arm deep into the magic bag and rummaged around until she found what she was searching for: a silver-bladed knife. “I hate to ruin your shirt…”

“I think we might be a bit past that point,” he quipped. Sitting down on bed beside him, she began to gently cut away the blood-soaked fabric. She worked as quickly as she dared—not wanting to tear away his skin, which clung to the sticky, formerly-white cloth. Finally, she was able to remove the garment, exposing Remus’ bare chest. This time, she felt her own breath hitch. Her eyes lingered, just for a moment, on his leanly muscular frame. She noticed streaks of white running crisscross over his bare skin: old transformation scars. She averted her gaze. This was no time to be ogling the half-naked man in front of her. Though she had been fantasizing about moments like this for months—moments when the two of them were alone in bed together—none of them had involved quite this much blood or mortal peril. Come to think of it, none of them had involvedany blood or mortal peril.  

The gashes on his chest and back were pretty superficial, despite the bleeding, and did not seem to have punctured any vital organs. She would simply have to stem the bleeding and bandage them up. She moved to examine his leg. “Lie down,” she commanded, and assisted as he tried to move his legs up onto the bed.

Grow up, she thought to herself, as she helped guide him out of his trousers. Her heart sank. The wound was deep. Furthermore, she deduced from the greenish tinge surrounding the gaping flesh, the weapon that had made it must have been poisoned. Great. She knew she should have paid more attention in potions. Furiously rummaging through her knapsack once more, she pulled out several bottles and desperately read their labels, muttering to herself. “Bubotuber pus, no. Mandrake draught, no. Love potion antidote, no, why do we even have this?!” Despite his state, Remus chuckled. “Clearly, you’ve never had the pleasure of being under the influence of a love potion. Now that’s dangerous.”

“Okay, right now I’m trying to focus on saving your life, Lupin, but as soon as I’m finished, I want every, and I mean every detail of that story.”

“Fine, fine. If I don’t succumb to whatever injuries those prats inflicted upon me, you can hear the story. But, if I do die, I want you to promise you’ll mourn me properly. Black veils, wailing, flinging yourself onto my coffin, the works.”

“There’ll be none of that talk! I’ll have you up and running about in no time, grandpa,” Tonks joked back, though still frowning. Dumbledore said he had given them everything they could possibly need for their adventure. Surely, he must have packed them something to deal with poison. Suddenly, her fingers wrapped around another, extremely small bottle. She pulled it out of the bag and searched the label. All it said was “From Fawkes, for Order emergencies,” with a picture of a red bird on the label.

“What’d’you reckon this could be,” Tonks asked as she passed Remus the bottle.

“Fawkes is Dumbledore’s bird, I believe,” he responded, twirling the bottle in his hands, as if searching for a hidden message.

Tonks’s face lit up. “That’s it! Give it here!” She grabbed it out of his hand and hastily unscrewed the top.

“What is?”

She grinned up at him as she used the dropper top to apply a generous amount of clear liquid to his punctured leg. Sure enough, the wound began to knit itself back together, the green hue fading. “Fawkes is a phoenix, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but I don’t…of course!” his faced beamed with realization. They met each other’s eyes and simultaneously exclaimed: “Phoenix tears have healing powers!” A moment passed.

“Nerd,” Tonks remarked. Then, the pair burst out laughing, the tension from the night’s events pouring out of them with a relief. Remus winced again, drawing them both back to reality.

“I suppose we don’t have enough to use on my other wounds as well?”

“No,” Tonks replied, once again searching through the bottles surrounding her, “but we do have Essence of Dittany and bandages!”

“That’ll do just fine.” Remus smiled.

The next hour consisted of Tonks carefully dabbing Dittany onto Remus’s chest and back. Now that the immediate danger had passed, she could no longer ignore the chills coursing up and down her spine as she lightly brushed his bare skin. Once she had bandaged the last of the gashes, she allowed her hand to linger for a split second. She ran her fingertips gently down his uninjured back. He went unnaturally still. She pulled her hand away, quickly. “I’m glad you’re okay, Remus.”

Abruptly, she jumped up off of the bed, walked to the bathroom, and locked the door. She let herself sink to the floor, back against the wall, and put her head in her hands. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to slow her racing heart. There really was no denying it: she was deeply, madly, hopelessly in love with the man who lay beyond the bathroom door.